


Not the usual form of Payment

by Anchanee



Series: Payment of the Hales' debt [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (sometimes), Alpha Scott, Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha Stiles, Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe - Mafia AU, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark, Demons, Derek is his own worst enemy, Don Stiles, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyones a little OOC, F/M, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Human Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Lonely Derek, M/M, Mentioned Kate Argent, Multi, Not a nice world, Platonic Cuddling, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shameless Smut, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Touch-Starved, Underage Sex, Vampires, You Have Been Warned, incubus danny, mentions of rape/non-con, werewolfs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 98,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanee/pseuds/Anchanee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Stilinski has been brutally killed and Stiles Stilinski finds himself thrust to the head of the American branch of the Stilinski Clan at the age of eighteen. The mobster family that operates mainly in central Europe, but had branched out to America with one very talented Claudia Stilinski, who had secured the market of central California (San Francisco, Brentwood, San Jose). She was succeeded by her husband and now her son. </p><p>When his enforcer, Isaac, brings him Derek Hale as compensation for his family's debt, he’s not quite sure what to do. The Hales were a successful family who had worked with the Stilinskis quite successfully over the last decades. Now they are offering their son instead of money. Though Stiles is still learning the ropes of this mob business, he's pretty sure that THAT'S not normal!</p><p>Stiles ends up using Derek as a bodyguard which is probably not what you’re meant to do with a rival family’s son, but Stiles is making this up as he goes. And despite him being a mobster, he still has some dignity left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sterek AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/61944) by danielsharman. 



> I found this story-idea on tumblr and I wanted to show it to you. The pictures are also included in the first chapter, so here you find the reference where they are from. Just in case you wonder, I received permission from their creator to use them ;).
> 
> This is my first attempt at Teen Wolf. And despite being inspired by a Mafia!Au gifset, I really can't forgo the supernatural stuff. I need werewolves and demons, a crazy Peter Hale and glowing eyes and puppy-piles in my life! Because otherwise, where would be the fun in writing Teen Wolf?
> 
> Just like Stiles, I am making this up as I go. I hope you will enjoy it.
> 
> As it turns out, this story, or at least parts of it are dark, mean and unfair. There are many things that could trigger you, so please heed the tags before you start reading. I won't change it to make it 'nicer' because that's the way it is in my head. For those of you with a strong stomach, have fun reading. I promise there will be enough fluff to make up for the dark parts.

     

     

      

 

The question echoed through Derek's mind, deafening him with its implications.

 

_~ What makes you worth four million? ~_

_~ What makes you worth the debt your family owns me? ~_

 

Derek wanted to growl, to snap his teeth at the tall boy next to him. Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski's errand boy, who had brought him here in a sleek car, while his sisters had following them in Laura's Camaro. Now the tall teenager looked at him expectantly, like putting someone on display half naked was normal.

 

Yet in the world they were living in, it absolutely could be. His family, his own mother, had sent him here. Talia Hale was offering him as compensation for a debt the Hale Family was not able to pay. But he alone was not adequate. So Derek was supposed to reveal his families' most protected secret.

 

He fought through the fuzziness of his mind, and tried to decide for himself rather than being a dog on a leash that could be ordered in any direction. But his older sister had wanted to make this easier for him. That's why a special brand of wolfsbane was coursing through his veins, making him dull and unassertive.

 

His older sister had wanted to help him, by numbing his mind. But in this very moment he hated her for it. Hated Laura as much as every other member of his family, for taking away his free will, his ability to choose his path for himself, even when he knew he deserved this … servitude or worse … beyond the shadow of doubt.

 

~ * ~

 

For years now his family had struggled. When he had betrayed them just to prove himself … when the Argents, one Kate Argent had used a chance he had practically served her on a silver platter … after they had lost some of their most beloved family members in an ambush he had helped planning unknowingly several years ago, things had taken a severe downturn for the Hale Family.

 

Once wealthy and influential, the state of business had lessened ever since their encounter with the Argents. The 'Sheriff' had helped them, had lent them money at Talia's request, so that they could get back on their feet. He had just recently taken over the family business after his wife had been assassinated by a rivalling crime family. He had been rich but lacked allies. It had been a generous arrangement, ten years to pay back with an insignificant amount of interest since and in return the Hales had supported business deals and backed up his position.

 

Then the Sheriff had died. Of 'natural causes' or so they had said. The sad truth was that a bullet in the back really was a natural cause when you worked in organized crime. When you dealt with drugs, prostitution, weapons and other illegal substances you made enemies. Even though John Stilinski had been well respected in Beacons Hills and the surrounding cities, his fortune in business had been frowned upon, in more than one way. He had been called ruthless, a cut-throat who stacked to nothing. Still, the people who did business with him knew him to be fair. Those he took out of the game because they couldn't keep up had executed their revenge.

 

The 'Sheriff's' son had been involved somehow. Derek didn't know the whole story. Rumour had it, that he had avenged his father before taking over the lead position of the Stilinski Clan, despite being the only member operating in America. The family centred in Poland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia and was currently expanding east. The 'American Stilinskis' had provided a gate to the west and now Stiles was the one who kept it open.

 

Therefore the Hale Family was dependant on his good will and when the day of payment had come closer and closer Derek's parents had become more and more closed off. Not seeing the chance to come up with the money without damaging their trade substantially they had come to a decision. One month ago, they had told him that _he_ would be the payment and with him the secret of their race.

 

For a instant the man wanted to fight his fate. Derek wanted to come up with another solution. A solution for him to be enough so that he would not betray his family's secret, even when he had been ordered to do so. But the insistent voice of the Lahey boy brought him back to the present.

 

~ * ~

 

When he looked up, all he could see were two raised eyebrows from his new pack leader – at least that's what this boy would be if he took the offer – apparently judging his every move. Closing his eyes, Derek tightened his fists, fighting past a rage born of self-hatred that had been his anchor for so long. He needed to let go but as affected as he was now by the wolfsbane, he could not be sure that his wolf would not attack this human. Then on the other hand, what did it matter?

 

Derek had smelled the weapon on this Lahey kid the second he had picked him up at his family's home. He had seen the taser on the boy's belt. They were cautious about letting an obviously well trained fighter close to their leader. Not that this laughable weapon would be of any help. Still, Derek had to give them credit for good preparation.

 

He would most likely be injured and in pain if he lost control. He could deal with injuries. He could deal with pain. So he let go and allowed the wolf to take over, threw himself into a shift that had been unavoidable from the moment his parents had told him about their decision.

 

The change was glorious. Short, agonizing, exhilarating and for the first moments after taking his wolf-form, Derek revelled in the simplicity of his animal-state. A wolf didn't think about right and wrong. He thought about survival. He didn't care what others thought of him, as long as he was given food and was protected by the pack. Exactly that feeling brought Derek to his knees. Well, more or less his knees since he was walking on all fours now.

 

Ever since he had told his mother, his Alpha, what he thought of her plan to sell him off (He had stated in no uncertain terms that she could shove her plan up a … very dark place.) his parents had become cold towards him. They hadn't engaged in any physical contact until he had begrudged agreed to their plan. Since this had only happened last night, his wolf was starved for affection.

 

When Stiles shot up from his chair, staggering at the sight of the giant, black Timberwolf, whose shoulders reached the boys hips, Derek couldn't supress a low whine. The last thing he wanted was for this boy to reject him. Things would get even worse for his family if the Stilinski-boy didn't take the deal, and it would, once again, be his fault. So Derek lowered himself to his belly to appear as non-threatening as possible.

 

But instead of rejecting him, out of the blue the teenager started laughing and sank to one knee in front of his chair, holding out his hand. Maybe this last month had weakened his resolve, because before Derek could make a conscious choice, his wolf had already approached the human and had buried his big head in the slim chest of the young man. Stiles instantly wrapped his arms around him, carded his fingers through the thick hair on Derek's chest and shoulders, scratching him and burying his face in the wolf's soft pelt.

 

"I guess that solves the mystery of the large wolves that roam our woods on occasion," Stiles snickered, looking up at Isaac.

 

The tall boy only shrugged, watching his boss cuddle his new pet, with a small smile on his face.

 

Derek's wolf was utterly, utterly happy. This human, his new Alpha, was petting him, was tugging at his hair but never pulling painfully. He was shaking Derek's massive form, allowing the wolf to bury his nose in his neck and smelled delightfully of joy. He had not received this much affection in over a month … no, he had not received this much free and joyous affection in longer than he cared to admit.

 

Derek tried to regain control, tried to tell his wolf-side to be cautious. That the human only was gleeful because he was getting a new pet, a new plaything. That he was happy about the power the knowledge meant for him. But his wolf did not care. Stiles smelled like the tall redwood-trees of their forest, of sunflowers and earth. The wolf wanted to roll around in that scent, to get it all over himself because it smelled more like home than the Hale-house had in a very long time.

 

A discrete cough from the Lahey-boy put an end to their games, and at first Derek's wolf bared his teeth at him. But Stiles only slapped the tip of his ear, not painful, just to gain his attention. "Hey, none of that! Isaac is right. We still have business to attend to."

 

The young man rose, and the smile and the happiness was washed away in a heartbeat. He straightened his clothes and brushed off Derek's hair. Once he was presentable he reclaimed his chair and snapped his finger by his side. "Sit," he commanded and before Derek could contemplate disobedience he already sat at Stiles heel.

 

Apparently his wolf did not care about being commanded, as long as he got the chance to be close to Stiles. Instantly he was rewarded with the long, elegant fingers returning to the back of his neck, scratching him comfortingly while Stiles nodded to his errand boy, "Alright, let them in, Isaac."

 

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski."

 

~ * ~

 

His mother had given in to the request of his sister Laura and his uncle Peter to be allowed to seal the deal. Derek knew Laura to be here because she honestly cared. But Peter's presence bothered him greatly. In the attack a few years ago, his uncle had lost both his wife and his daughter and had not been the same after. He had been cold, sometimes downright cruel towards Derek – which honestly was understandable – but at times he even behaved vicious towards his own Alpha slash sister and towards the rest of the pack. Instinctively the wolf shifted closer to Stiles and fixed his family members once they entered to room.

 

"I see you have already decided upon my brother's position," Laura stated coldly. "The prospect of having a wolf-pet who obeys your every command, must be quite appealing to a human." The last word she spat out as if it was an insult.

 

Not allowing this snarky comment to faze him, Stiles continued his caresses of Derek's neck, answering drily, "What a witty comment. Go on Laura, get it all out. Don't rein in this feral temper of yours on my account. There really is no need now that the cat's out of the bag."

 

Eyes flashing blue, the female werewolf took a menacing step closer and Isaac was already drawing his gun when her uncle held her back.

 

His words were like liquid silk, placating the tense atmosphere, when he reminded his niece, "Now, now Laura. I think one wolf is enough for Mr. Stilinski for one day. We still have to seal this deal."

 

"And what is your proposal exactly, Mr. Hale?" Stiles asked, sarcasm forgotten.

 

"My nephew Derek, one of the strongest wolves of our pack, entirely at your disposal. I am sure you are aware of the implications of such a gesture." Peter replied smoothly, a menacing grin on his lips.

 

Of course Stiles was aware of the implications, he had talked about them with his friends ever since he had received Isaac's text that he was not bringing money but a person as compensation. So the head of the Stilinski Clan nodded and gestured towards Derek, "Although I appreciate the gesture, as well as the offered information, do you really expect me to believe that this young man is handing over his life so easily, especially when considering that he is a werewolf and surely several times stronger than me?"

 

"Well," Peter grinned, "that's where the second part of our proposal comes in." He reached into his jacket, slowing his movements when Isaac raised his gun, pulling forth a long box, offering it to Stiles.

 

When the teenager nodded Peter Hale approached him and opened the box. A softly, gleaming leather-collar was revealed. The piece looked sturdy enough to hold a normal wolf, but it was unlikely that it would match the strength of a shape-shifter. The representative of the Hales' explained, "This is an enchanted collar that comes with the pet. You fasten it around his neck and not only will you be the only one who can ever release him, it will bend him to your will. Whenever you command, he will be unable to resist, wolf or human form.

 

"If your first command is for him not to hurt you, you should be safe."

 

Taking in the gleeful grin of the uncle, Stiles touched the soft leather. After a moment, he showed a lewd smile and picked up the collar, turning toward Derek. "I assume it will shift with him."

 

"Of course it will." Peter assured him. "He won't be able to free himself without your consent. He will not be able to leave your side either and he will obey your every order."

 

"Good." Stiles downright purred when closing the collar, apparently enjoying the power he was now wielding.

 

~ * ~

 

Derek hated this. He had tried to meet Stiles' eyes, had attempted to convey that he would not need to collar, that he was willing to cooperate. This was his chance to prove his worth after all. But the boy had not even looked at him, apparently too entranced by the promise of power and dominance. His uncle's lecherous grin and his lascivious thoughts that were written all over his face, made him hold back a desperate whine. He didn't want to appear weak in front of his uncle of all people.

 

When the collar closed and the magic activated, Derek felt an all-encompassing weight pressing down on him. He sank to his belly, scratching his neck frantically to get rid of the source of the horrible feeling, but Stiles commanded, "Leave it."

 

Instantly Derek froze in the middle of the gesture, unable to touch the collar again. When Stiles once more clicked his fingers beside his chair, the human part of his personality was able to interpret the gesture. With a quiet yelp he crouched back to his initial place, all but on his belly.

 

The wolf was whining in his head, demanding from him to get rid of the contraption, to bring the boy back who had petted them and had smelled so happy. But Derek knew that this was over. Stiles had taken the very last thing they might have had to offer: his free will.

 

His wolf had submitted on his own, happy to have someone so nice to them, he had felt comfortable with. Derek knew that sooner or later he would have given in to the feeling, given in to Stiles since he had been the source of happiness for his wolf. It was, after all, impossible to fight the needs of his wolf for an extended amount of time. If the wolf liked Stiles, Derek would have liked him too in the end. But now they would never find out, because from now on, he was nothing more than an obedient slave-pet.

 

~ * ~

 

Stiles and his uncle were talking business, finalizing the trade. Talia Hale was indeed offering her son, without reservations as Peter explained, but – as Laura added – she reserved the right to buy him back if the family came into the money. Agreeing, Stiles shook both Laura and Peter's hand, ignoring the woman's attempts to break his bones, before Isaac showed them to the door.

 

Stiles had reclaimed his chair, through the entire negotiations, but had not returned to petting Derek, no matter how often the wolf had nudged his thigh.

 

'There you have it,' was all Derek could think. 'There is no use in trusting strangers, no matter how good they smell or how nice they are at first. The new Alpha might carry the scent of home, but he doesn't want us, not really. He wants a mindless pet that's obedient to his every whim.'

 

'Don't care,' the wolf had whined. 'Make him return! Pet us again, be nice again!'

 

The need was so overwhelming and Derek's mind still felt clouded. So he was unable to resist his animalistic instincts. Before he realized, he had approached Stiles and Isaac who now stood in the middle of the room, whispering numbers, one after the other.

 

"Seven" Isaac mumbled.

 

"Eight" Stiles breathed.

 

"Nine" Isaac, counted.

 

"Ten" Stiles finished, touching his ear, begging nearly desperately, "Tell me we are in the clear!"

 

Apparently he received a positive answer, because before Derek could react Stiles whipped around and, in his haste to approach him, tripped and slithered towards him on his knees. Frantically he pulled at the collar, scrambled for the closure, dragging it free from the latch and within a moment the oppressive weight lifted both from Derek's body and his mind.

 

He saw Stiles flung the collar as far away as possible, sinking down on the floor, breathing hard. Grateful that the hateful thing was gone, Derek lay down beside the boy, offering his body to lean on to.

 

The teen took the offer, leaning against Derek for a moment, before he looked up at Isaac who had stopped the sliding collar with the tip of his shoe, picking up the offensive piece of leather.

 

Stiles voice was strained when he demanded, "Keep that thing as far away from me as possible."

 

Not asking for an explanation, the tall boy put it into a bag and stored it in his jacket before approaching Stiles, offering his hand to help the lanky boy to his feet.

 

Stiles took the help gladly and for a moment, Derek could see them leaning against each other, drawing comfort. A pang of longing shooting through him, because they seemed so familiar, so comfortable with each other, before Stiles straightened his lapels once again, looking down at Derek.

 

"Come on wolf-boy. Let's go home."

 

~ * ~


	2. Position and Positioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's first moments in his new home. Strangely not what he had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the lovely esachicadealla, who has taken it upon herself to edit my errors and spot my most prominent mistakes. Thanks to her I can post the second chapter already.

The ride home was uneventful, except Stiles and Derek were using a beat-up blue jeep instead of the sleek, black car Isaac was driving.

 

Still, Derek enjoyed the ride, because not only was the car saturated with the redwood-earth-sunflower-scent of Stiles, the boy had purposefully opened the passenger window, so that Derek could stick out his head, taking in the scents of his new neighbourhood. His wolf was happy, especially since Stiles scratch Derek's back whenever they stopped at a traffic-light.

 

Once they entered the unobtrusive, but heavily secured home of the Stilinski Clan, Derek saw both Isaac and Stiles taking out an ear-stud and with a clang put it in a small glass-bowl on the dresser right beside the door. Their keys landed in a ceramic bowl right beside it. Unsure of what was expected of him, Derek followed Stiles timidly, looking into an open living- slash dining-room with a kitchen-island on its left side.

 

The floor-plan was open and airy in a way the Hale house had never been, since it had been built too long ago. And instead of smelling like tension and determination like his home, this one smelled of joy and happiness, even love.

 

Derek understood the origin of these scents when Stiles approached a stunning red-head, who sat at the dining table, taking out an earring herself, looking up from her laptop.

 

Stiles smiled at her genuinely, kissing her hair before looking over her shoulder. "Lydia, oh queen of my heart, tell me, how bad is it?"

 

"What do you mean?" Lydia answered with a sarcastic smile on her cherry-red lips, "The state of our accounts or the fact that you have just bought a human being?" Disapproval echoed in her every word and for whatever reason, Stiles scratched the back of his head and looked a little sheepish when gazing at Derek.

 

"But Lyds. Derek Hale! Have you seen him? If you think this form is impressive, just wait for him to shift!"

 

"And be forced to ogle a naked werewolf? Thank you, but no thanks. That is not what I had on my agenda for the day!" Lydia snapped and returned her attention to the computer.

 

What was going on here? Derek was more than confused by the snappish comment of this young woman. Stiles Stilinski was the leader of a crime-family that operated not only in America but also in Europe. Who was this Lydia to think that she could talk to him like that? Derek felt a grown rise in his throat, but Stiles next words made him snap out of it.

 

"You are right." Turning around, he addressed his enforcer. "Isaac, I am sure Derek would appreciate a hot shower. He also needs some clothes. I don't want to think about the message conveyed by being given a wolf with a collar but no shirt. Maybe Danny will make a donation on Derek's behalf. They should be roughly the same size."

 

"Sure, where do you want him?" The tall boy had approached Derek and put the tip of his fingers on the wolf's neck.

 

Derek had to fight the impulse to pull back. But when the teenager made no further move, he relaxed a little. This was all unchartered territory. He would, most likely, fill the position of the Omega in this human pack, the lowest member in their hierarchy, the scapegoat for everybody. Angering any of them on his first day by pulling back from their touch would not help his position. Maybe if he showed himself as user-friendly, they wouldn't treat him too harshly.

 

At least Stiles obviously didn't plan to 'sample the merchandise' right now. Otherwise he would not have talked about clothes. So when Isaac nudged him gently, Derek followed obediently. Still, the uneasy feeling in his stomach remained, when thinking about Stiles previous answer: "My room".

 

~ * ~

 

As soon as the wolf was out of earshot, Lydia rose and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at Stiles judgemental. "How could you? Stiles, since when do we engage in human trafficking?"

 

Stiles sank into an armchair in the living room, carding his fingers through his hair, looking at the floor. His voice was barely above whisper when he answered. "How could I not? You know what has happened to Laura. You're the one who revised most of Danny's intel. I don't want that for him. The Hales don't have the money at the moment, you told me so yourself and when they offered him …"

 

Looking up at one of his most intelligent friends since High-School, Stiles whispered, "I know that's not what we have planned. But what should I have done? Had I not taken him, how do you think his mother would have gathered the money? The last time they had financial troubles she 'hired out' her oldest daughter and we both know how good that went. I couldn't bear the thought to have the same happening to Derek. Not if I could help it."

 

Crawling into Stiles lap, hugging him, Lydia admitted. "I don't know. But you can't 'keep' him. He might be a werewolf but he is not a pet."

 

Savouring the embrace, Stiles leaned back to give Lydia more room. Thoughtfully he pondered, "Why do you think they showed us? We had no proof until now."

 

"Maybe because they don't trust him to keep it a secret if they offer him? Sooner or later it would have come out anyway."

 

"Yes, but why make it so official. That was a show-off more than a bargain for the debt." Stiles wondered. Something about this situation didn't feel right to him. Other than obviously having bought a human being, as horrible as that was. "Can we afford it, Lydia? Can we afford forgoing four million dollars? We have shipments coming in that needed to be paid for."

 

Returning to the table, Lydia opened the computer again, pointing at the screen. "Well, we could …"

 

~ * ~

 

The same time Lydia and Stiles were talking numbers, Derek had been shown a spacious room that was dominated by a comfortable bed, with a bathroom attached. Isaac had promised to fetch him clothes, before closing the door. Derek locked the door to the bathroom, before shifting back. The last thing he wanted was to be found in Stiles' bedroom, stark naked.

 

He used the facilities but when he washed his hands and looked into the mirror over the sink he flinched at his own wrung out appearance. There were deep circles under his eyes due to his lack of sleep. His pupils were dilated from the wolfsbane Laura had offered this morning, giving him a slightly maniac look. He remembered last night all too well. Laura crawling into bed with him, holding him, trying to comfort. She had whispered into his ear that he should not fight, should give in to whatever Stiles demanded of him. No matter how little he liked it, it would be over much sooner that way.

 

Derek had barely been able to hold back the tears, because he now got an inkling about what had happened, during Laura's 'work' for a rivalling crime family in Oakland last year. True, her fighting-skill and her determination had improved greatly, but she had become hard and cold, closed off in a way that was not normal for a young wolf. Hearing her advice had broken his heart, even when he was aware that he was not in a better situation right now.

 

Fighting down the despair, Derek entered the shower. For a few, blessed moments, he was able not to think as the water streamed down on him, washing away the stench of unease and fear that had clung to him all day. Without thinking he reached for the closest bottle of shampoo and shower-gel, only to discover where Stiles unique scent most likely stemmed from. The shower-gel was faintly scented as was the shampoo.

 

Remembering the delight of his wolf, his wish to roll in these scents, he used generous amounts of both products, before he could worry if he was even allowed to do so. The eagerness of his animalistic side brought a smile to his face when the wolf demanded from him to return to the shower once he had left. Thankfully a pair of black sweat-pants lay on the foot of the bed and Derek put them on swiftly. They clung his body, hanging low on his hips and framing his ass a little too tight for him to be comfortable. But it was better than going naked and since they were long enough to cover his feet, he didn't feel overly ridiculous. However, there was no shirt and since Derek didn't dare to go through the drawers and the wardrobe on the far wall, he left the room bare-footed and topless to look for Isaac.

 

He saw the tall teenager leaving his own room. He had changed, now wearing worn blue-jeans, a white button-down with frayed armpits and a scarf around his neck. Before Derek could approach him, he knocked on another room before entering. Through the open door Derek could see him approaching a young woman, who sat at a desk. She turned around and smiled before Isaac sank to his knees in front of her, burying his face in her lap. Instantly the young woman closed her arms around him, hugging him tightly, carding her fingers through his golden locks comfortingly.

 

Another young man approached the pair, sinking to the floor beside Isaac, hugging him as well. When the young woman lifted her head, looking at the other boy Derek's blood ran cold. Living in New York for the better part of the last five years, he had only been told that the Stilinskis had been working with the Argents for quite some time now. Gerard Argent had personally helped to secure John Stilinski's position after the death of his wife. But Derek had not expected to see Allison Argent in his new home.

 

Shivering from distress, Derek stepped back from the door, approaching the railing that led to the lower floor. Everything was better than to watch a member of the family that had killed several members of his own. He staggered towards the stairs, listening to the conversation below, so that he could decide if it was alright to go down.

 

Sadly he tuned in the conversation about seven words to late, because Stiles had actually started his last sentences with:

 

~ * ~

 

"I swear, when he wore that collar," the teenager hissed, "I felt disgusted to touch him. It was as if the pollution from his body was seeping into my bones!"

 

Flinching back against the wall, Derek slowly sank back onto the ground, covering his ears. Well, at least now he knew where he was standing with the boy. His new owner … Master … Alpha … Whatever Stiles was, he felt disgusted to touch him. The thought that Stiles had done so repeatedly during their ride here did not recognize in Derek's mind.

 

Downstairs Lydia put a comforting hand on Stiles arm. "I will talk to Deaton. Surely he will help."

 

Snickering Stiles grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and sank his teeth into it. "Surely. And he will spew ominous crap and insist on his neutrality. I don't want to go there again today, Lyds. Can you deal with this for me, please?"

 

With a sigh the pretty redhead spun around and picked up her phone.

 

~ * ~

 

Derek looked up when he heard a discreet cough. Beside him stood the dark-haired teenager, who had hugged Isaac not a minute ago. Aware that his current position could be interpreted as eavesdropping, Derek swallowed around his constricting throat, trying to come up with an explanation of why he was sitting at the top of the stairs.

 

But the other boy beat him to it, offering his hand to pull him up, smiling at him comfortingly. "Hi, I'm Scott. Isaac said that you needed a shirt, and since Danny's style is pretty … special, I wanted to offer you one of mine. It's a little worn but it's the biggest one I have."

 

Something about this boy screamed authority, so Derek took both offers. The offered top was a grey muscle-shirt, a little tight around the chest but it covered him pretty decently so he lowered his eyes in gratitude.

 

Just like Stiles, Scott didn't seem to have a problem with his tight-lipped behaviour and patted him on the back, guiding him downstairs. "Let's see if we can get some food into you. You look as if you're ready to faint."

 

Actually, that assumption was quite accurate, since Derek had not been able to stomach anything since yesterday evening, dreading today. When they entered the kitchen, Stiles was already behind the counter, preparing what seemed like a mountain of sandwiches and a huge bowl of salad. When Derek and Scott entered, he looked up from the cutting board, his face lighting up with a smile.

 

"Great, you found our new puppy." Derek might have detested being called a dog but his wolf didn't have a problem with it. He preened at the endearment of their theoretical, new Alpha. His wolf actually saw no problem following the boy's directions. Stiles was not a werewolf, but he was nice and smelled good and for his wolf this was enough. He was not ready to show his belly, but he could comply with every command Stiles could give them.

 

Angered by his wolfs easy compliance, Derek barely looked up in time to realize that Stiles was addressing him. "How are you, gorgeous? I see they have found something for you to wear. Are you hungry? This business deal made us forgo lunch, so we are squeezing a meal in although it's a little late. I hope you like salad and roast-beef sandwiches."

 

Staring for a few moments at the vast amount of meat Stiles was cutting, Derek realized belatedly that the young man was waiting for an answer. Nodding nervously he confirmed, "Yes, I … I like roast-beef sandwiches."

 

This was not going as it should. Why was everybody so nice to him? Honestly he didn't know what he had expected, but this … this comradery, this easy support was definitely not it. True he had only been offered a shower and some clothes until now, but he had expected a much harsher treatment being at the bottom of the pack.

 

Yet everybody he had met so far was smiling and offering help. Only Stiles calling him 'gorgeous' made him a little uneasy since it implied a personal interest. But on the other hand, it was better than being addressed like a pet, even though he had been offered as exactly that. The requirement to shift to seal the deal had made Derek horribly uncomfortable. Not only because it had been drilled into him at a very young age that he should never, under no circumstances, tell anybody about his true nature, but because presenting himself as a wolf implied that he would be treated as one.

 

Actually Stiles _had_ treated him like one, but only by lowering himself on his knees so that they were face to face. The teenager had petted and comforted him. The collar had been horrible, but it had all been for show. Everything about this situation was bewildering and Derek didn't know what the safest course of action was, since nobody had told him what was expected of him.

 

"Great" Stiles beamed, pulling Derek from his thoughts. "I make the meanest roast-beef-sandwiches on this side of the big sea."

 

Entering the kitchen, Lydia declared, "He wants to see you as well. He won't help us otherwise."

 

"No," the teenager started to whine, looking at Scott who still stood by Derek's side. Yet the black-haired boy only smirked and shrugged, apparently aware what was discussed. "We had just had such a nice conversation, Lydia. Tell me that you are omitting the truth and that you are perfectly able to deal with this on your own!"

 

Putting away her mobile, Lydia took a plate and some salad from the bowl, as well as a sandwich, Stiles nudged into her direction. "It is true that I am perfectly able to deal with this lunch. As for the collar, you will see Deaton in an hour if you want him to do something about it."

 

"I see this man twice a week. Isn't that enough? And it's Friday evening! You are cruel," Stiles mumbled, "I don't know why I adore you so much."

 

Smiling predatory, showing a lot of teeth, the redhead turned around to take a place on the table.

 

Grumbling under his breath, Stiles put two fingers into his mouth and whistled so loud that Derek's ears hurt. Looking to his side, he thought that Scott had covered his ears in advance, but before he could ponder on that observation, the teenager pulled him back from the counter.

 

The next moment Derek was grateful for Scott's foresight, because the main room of the house became a whirlwind of activity. Several doors opened and closed, feet stomped up and down several staircases and for a moment Derek thought that he had seen a young man falling from the roof before opening the back door.

 

All of these people, who were suddenly invading the kitchen, grabbed a plate from the stack Stiles had prepared, a napkin and cutlery before helping themselves to salad and several sandwiches. When the first storm was over and everybody was seated, chatting amicably, only a small portion of the salad was left and two sandwiches.

 

Undisturbed by the nearly empty salad-bowl Stiles reached for another package of salad and covered it in dressing. He prepared three plates of salad for Scott, Derek and himself before looking at the sandwiches, his gaze hardening. Obviously the others at the table were waiting for them, since nobody was eating. But when Stiles remained in the kitchen, not saying a word they turned around, looking at him one by one.

 

Only when everybody was facing him, Stiles looked at the group with a hard expression. This was not for show as the set-up during the business-deal, Derek realized, because he could smell Stiles anger. The boy was displeased and by the way most teenagers at the table started fidgeting, they were aware of it. Pointedly Stiles looked at the two remaining sandwiches, before lifting his eyes again. "Can anybody tell me what is wrong with this picture?"

 

There was a little commotion and a lot of shuffling, and once everybody was seated again, two sandwiches and several halves were draped over the plate. All in all it was enough for Scott, Derek and Stiles to have two full sandwiches each and satisfied Stiles draped them over the edges of their salad-plates before offering one to Scott and one to Derek.

 

Derek could barely supress the eagerness of his wolf, who was convinced that being fed by their supposed Alpha was a sign of affection. Derek knew that this was nothing but means to an end, because a half-starved pet was of no use, still when he had wolfed down his first sandwich, because he had been so hungry, he found an additional one on his napkin with Stiles having only one piece of bread left. Derek didn't know what to do, how to react to the gesture. So he saved Stiles sandwich for last, taking his time to savour it once his hunger was satisfied. He had a harder time to convince his wolf that Stiles's actions were ones of mere convenience after that.

 

~ * ~

 

After a short meal, Stiles used the chance to introduce him to the other inhabitants of the house. At his right hand sat Lydia with a brawly boy by her side who went by the name of Aiden. Facing Stiles at the small side of the table sat Scott with Alison Argent at his left and Isaac at his right side. Several additional seats were empty but Stiles didn't want to overwhelm Derek with too many names on his first day.

 

Derek had been given a place at Stiles left side. Usually this was the place of the Alpha's partner. The werewolf was aware that things might be different with humans, but that did nothing to ease his tension. The way Stiles had addressed Lydia upon entering had convinced Derek that the redhead was his girlfriend. But now, with the brawly boy by her side, who looked at her like she had hung the moon and the stars, at least when nobody was looking, he was not so sure any more. It left him with the suspicion that he was supposed to fill the position of the partner from now on.

 

Stiles hand on his arm brought him out of his musing. After enjoying the touch for a instant he flinched back, remembering the teenager's words from an hour ago. Frowning slightly, Stiles had let go instantly, concentrating on his soda and the gossip of his friends without looking at Derek again.

 

~ * ~


	3. A neutral Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On stage now: Dr. Alan Deaton. And we will hear what Stiles really thinks about a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Esachicadealla returned my lastest chapter yesterday. Boy is this she fast :). (And brilliant! Read:)

 

Lydia and Scott accompanied him and Stiles to the clinic. When Scott pulled out a key and opened the back-door, Derek looked at him in confusion, but the dark-haired boy merely shrugged. "I work here."

 

That baffled Derek even more. This teenager was living with the head of one of the most influential crime families in this area. Why would he need to work? Obviously Stiles was able to read his puzzled expression because he explained when they entered the backroom of the clinic.

 

"Scott has worked for Deaton for the last two years. After dad … died and I took over, he had to cut back the hours. Scotty has a great way with animals, but mostly he is here for Dr. Deaton's protection. You would not believe half the shit that is going on in this vet-clinic!"

 

Derek was well aware that Dr. Deaton had worked as an emissary for the Hale-pack for the last two decades. It was a dangerous position even if he remained neutral in all matters of pack-business. Therefore it made sense for him to have a little extra protection. But what good could a teenage boy like Scott do, when facing an angry werewolf or supernatural creatures?

 

~ * ~

 

Deaton's calm voice pulled him out of his musings when the doctor called for them. "You may come in now, Mr. Stilinski."

 

When they all entered, Deaton's face didn't betray any emotion as he took in the group. He and Derek had met before, when Derek had been here on family business. But apparently the doctor didn't see anything wrong with him being here in barely fitting clothes, trailing after Stiles, instead of him being here on Hale-family business. "And what can I do for you today, Mr. Stilinski?"

 

Though Stiles was addressed, it was Lydia who answered; reaching into her purse, and pulling out Derek's new collar. "We need an exact copy of this, visible wards and all."

 

Gesturing towards the piece of leather, Deaton inspected it. "And why is that? It seems perfectly in order."

 

Grinding his teeth, Stiles barged in, "To hell with it being 'in order'! If I would even think about using one of these, you would kick my ass into the next week and we both know it. You were the one who made this, I can feel it. Now make us a copy without the main spell!"

 

Looking at Stiles hard, Deaton ordered, "Leave" gesturing towards the waiting area of the clinic.

 

When the two teenagers and the werewolf turned towards the door, Stiles stated quietly, "Derek will stay."

 

"We should discuss this in private," Deaton contradicted him, folding his hands over his chest.

 

Mirroring the gesture and raising his chin, Stiles informed him, "Derek was the one the collar was made for. So I think he should be allowed to hear this."

 

It was possible to say with his dark complexion that Deaton seemed to visibly blanch. "This collar was made for a dangerous animal. At least that was what I was led to believe, when it was ordered."

 

Angrily Stiles gestured, "Derek is _not_ an animal!"

 

"That is true," Deaton stated quietly, looking at Derek, lowering his head apologetically. "Still you have not revealed to me, how Derek and this collar came into your possession."

 

Sighing tiredly, it was Stiles now who hung his head, steadying himself on the exam table. He smelled of sadness and faintly of despair when he revealed silently, "Because he was given to me, he and the collar, as compensation for his family's debt. They even forced him to shift."

 

Derek felt his wolf pressing to the surface, Stiles had spoken in his defence, and now this human's suffering was unbearable for them. The wolf wanted to ease him. Still Derek remembered Stiles words about his touch all too vividly, so he stopped himself after taking a single step towards him. He was well aware of how Deaton was watching his every move. When he didn’t react any further, the emissary returned his attention to Stiles, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

"Return around ten; I will see what I can do," he assured the boy, before putting away the collar and opening the door so that Scott and Lydia could return.

 

~ * ~

 

Scott rode shotgun on their way home, and Lydia didn't argue, though she had claimed on their way here, that she would not ride in the back. Derek could see the tension in Stiles shoulders, his knuckles turning white where he was gripping the steering wheel far too tight. His tension eased a little, however when Scott put a comforting hand on his thigh.

 

When they returned to Stiles' home everybody seemed to go their separate ways leaving Derek at loss of what he should do with himself.

 

Lydia and Scott had vanished upstairs and Stiles was currently raiding the fridge, pulling out a soda. He left the kitchen after kissing Allison on the cheek, and briefly touching the small of Isaac's back since both were currently cooking. Well, from what Derek gathered from their conversation, Isaac was doing the cooking and Allison was helping.

 

Stiles then vanished into the depth of the house, a door falling shut behind him. Derek felt uncomfortable being in the same room with an Argent and pondered where he could go, before Stiles peeked around the corner again. "Do you like comics?" he asked out of the blue.

 

Baffled by the question Derek could only nod, and followed obediently when the boy beckoned him over.

 

Stiles opened a door that was plastered with numerous signs of people … or more beings that were supposedly not allowed to enter. There were several pictograms, all covered with a red 'X'. Derek spotted a picture of a wolf, a cat, a dog, something that looked vaguely like a bird, a mouse, a graphic of something that could – with enough fantasy – be interpreted as a vampire, a female as well as a male demon with horns and wings, a pedestrian with a walking stick (Derek suspected this one to be a stolen street-sign) and a male and a female, also something that resembled an elf and a fairy. The middle of the door was dominated by a handwritten sign that said:

 

**Stay out!**

**I mean it!**

 

The only exception was a high-gloss photo of Lydia that was surrounded with little hearts. Derek hesitated at the doorstep. Clearly only one person was welcome here, but Stiles snickered and pulled him over the threshold. "Come on, I will make an exception for you if you're good."

 

Derek didn't know how to reply to that, but the moment he looked around he was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books and comics that lined the walls. The room was not very big, but one wall was entirely covered by a bookshelves that were filled from top to bottom with volumes of various age and condition. One corner was dominated by a big desk where a computer was plugged in and the walls above were cover up by huge cork-boards. There were pictures and post-its and strings in different colours combining pictures and notes.

 

Immediately Derek looked at the floor, not wanting to be caught prying. Stiles obviously seemed to approve, since he relaxed considerably, nudging the man towards a sofa that covered the last part of the wall. It ended right under a huge window that showed the backyard. There were also French-doors that led outside, next to it a little blinking box that indicated a state of the art security system.

 

Stiles gestured at the wall facing the sofa, and when Derek looked up he noticed it to be filled with a myriad of comics. Fascinated by the sheer amount, Derek stepped closer, reverently touching first issues of Iron Man and Batman, following the complete series of the Fantastic four and Spiderman.

 

Smiling Stiles made an inviting gesture. "Help yourself, just put them back where they belong, please."

 

Derek had not read comics for many years now, not ever since the incident. He had loved them, but had not felt like he deserved the joy they had brought him after the attack. He had thrown himself into work, had done the best to support his family, to make up for the loss they had suffered. But nothing had ever been enough, no matter how hard he had tried. Now he was in a strange house with strange people, because his family had sold him like an unwanted pet. The thought alone hurt more than he cared to admit and reflexively he pulled out the first issue of Iron Man, losing himself in a world where heroes were of their own making.

 

A few hours later a knock on the door made both men flinch. Looking at the clock over the door, Derek realized that he had read the afternoon away. Anxiously he looked at Stiles, but the boy was stretching his back, rising from his oversized office-chair, and grinning at him. "Come on, otherwise all the good food will be gone!"

 

Entering the main living-area Derek's nose was assaulted by the delicious smell of rosemary chicken, baked potatoes, salad and sour-cream. A beautiful woman in her early forties was standing at the kitchen-counter, cutting up garlic bread, smiling at Stiles in a motherly way. Derek felt a pang of hurt. It had been a long time since his own mother had looked at him that way, affectionate, without a hidden agenda. Derek was surprised when the woman addressed him after offering a huge basked of bread for Stiles to put on the table.

 

Her look didn't change one bit when she gazed at Derek, "So you are our newest acquisition. Hi, I am Melissa McCall, Scott's mother." And then she wrapped her arms around Derek and hugged him.

 

In the first moment, Derek froze. But instead of pulling back, being discouraged by the lack of reaction, Mrs. McCall just stood there, allowed him to bask in her warmth and motherly affection. After a few moments, Derek couldn't hold back any longer, closing his arms tentatively around her waist, leaning into the embrace, burying his face in her shoulder.

 

For a few minutes nobody said anything, but when she pulled back, carding her fingers through Derek's hair tenderly, she whispered, "Don't worry, dear, everything will be alright."

 

It was an empty promise, Derek knew that. Especially when it came from someone who was associated with a crime family. Still, Derek couldn't help but feel slightly comforted. Not daring to look up, he just nodded, confirming that he had heard her words.

 

After a brief kiss to his forehead, Melissa pulled back and picked up a bunch of napkins before approaching the dining table. Derek was well aware that everybody had witnessed their little encounter. They all had seen him soaking up her affection like a needy, little pup. But nobody made fun of him, and once he took his place at the table, everybody was just talking about their day and their plans for the evening while distributing food as if it was the most normal thing in the world that the only adult was hugging someone, who had just been added to the household.

 

~ * ~

 

Stiles, however, had paid very close attention to what has just happened. He was not surprised by Melissa's open display of affection. She was like a mother to all of them, despite their uncanny ability to drive her out of her mind with worry when they were out on business. Stiles could understand her worries, since as a nurse she was the one patching them up when they were injured. Still, her hugging Derek had come out of the blue. Even more so since Derek had accepted her touch, clearly needing it.

 

Stiles was well aware, that Derek had pulled back most of the time when he had tried to comfort him. Only in his wolf-form did the young man accept Stiles touch. But Melissa hadn't cared about him going ramrod-stiff and after a few moments he had enjoyed the contact. The teenager had thought Derek detesting them, for taking him away from his family. But the interaction with Melissa was a good start. Maybe Stiles was not trying hard enough. Derek was now his responsibility and obviously the guy needed the kindness.

 

All through the meal, Derek seemed tense, like he was awaiting judgement or criticism of what had happened. So when he was finished with his portion, before going for second helping, Stiles reached under the table, placing his hand on Derek's upper thigh, rubbing over the tense muscles, ignoring Derek's negative reaction.

 

As expected Derek flinched back at first, glancing at Stiles for a second, but the teenager pointedly ignored him, dipping into the sauce with some garlic bread, savouring the treat. After a few moments Derek's tension subsided bit by bit, and when Stiles pulled back his hand, he felt Derek's leg chasing it for a heartbeat. Not wanting to withhold contact that was obviously needed, Stiles stretched his legs, intertwining them with Derek's.

 

At first the werewolf was confused. He expected a reprimand for taking comfort from the human woman. But nobody had said anything. When Stiles put his hand on his thigh he assumed that he would be hurt, though Stiles had not done anything to justify this fear. Next, Derek expected a sexual innuendo, an indication of what would be demanded of him later. But Stiles' hand had just laid there, rubbing gentle circles over tense muscles, easing Derek's apprehension. Maybe Stiles did not detest touching him at all? When the teenager pulled back his hand, Derek's wolf whined at the loss of comfort. When Stiles intertwined their legs, Derek accepted the gesture gratefully, relaxing a little more.

 

After dinner, when everything was cleaned and put away again, the group of teenagers spread out in the living room. Lydia and Allison claimed the sofa, with Ethan, Isaac and Scott sitting on the floor in front of them, playing GTA on the X-Box they had revealed by opening the cupboard under the big TV.

 

Melissa lay stretched out on the love-seat, emerging herself in a newspaper and Stiles had claimed the armchair, playing some kind of puzzle game on his tablet. Deciding that it was safest to follow the example of the boys, so he had claimed a place on the floor beside Stiles, returning to the comic he had started this afternoon. It took him quite a while to realize that he felt comfortable. The boys where laughing and the girls were taunting them on the collateral damage they caused. Melissa smiled on occasion, glancing over her paper and Stiles whooped now and then when he finished solved another level.

 

All in all these humans seemed to be completely at ease with each other. The atmosphere was relaxed and peaceful in a way Derek had missed with his own family for a long time. He tried to recall all the things he had been told about the Stilinskis. How ruthless John had been when he had taken over business. How he had butchered his rivals on his way to the top after his wife's death. How cruel Stiles was said to be, when someone was crossing him. The blood this family had on their hands and the cold determination with which they ruled their territory.

 

All this simply didn't fit the impressions he had gathered today. Stiles Stilinski was neither cruel nor ruthless. He had been cold and detached when doing business, but once it was over he had showed himself compassionate and caring. He had told about his friend protecting Dr. Deaton but had hissed at the men on Derek's behalf. And though Derek knew Alan Deaton to be a powerful emissary, he had accepted the criticism and had promised to help.

 

He was still lost in his thoughts, when Stiles nudged him, gesturing towards the clock on the wall. "We have to go."

 

Instantly Isaac and Scott were on their feet, but Stiles shook his head. "It's only Deaton. I think Derek and I can handle it."

 

It was Melissa who voiced the concerns that reflected on everybody's face. "Do you really think it's wise to go out alone at this time of the night?"

 

With a deep sigh, Stiles gave in. "I'll change, alright?"

 

Apparently placated by the promise, Melissa returned to her newspaper and Stiles hurried upstairs. When he returned he wore sturdy jeans and a red hoodie with a white shirt peeking out underneath. He had worn his suit all day and the current combination made him look considerably younger.

 

"Are you …?" Melissa's concerned question was answered by Stiles turning around, pulling up the back of his hoodie, revealing a small handgun in a belt-holster at the small of his back.

 

Bending over the back of the love-seat, kissing the woman's cheek, Stiles assured her. "I'll be back soon."

 

But instead of being comforted, Melissa caressed his hair, whispering under her breath, "Don't make promises you might not be able to keep. I already lost two Stilinskis, don't make it three."

 

But Stiles only grinned at her, "Hey, I wear multiple layers of protection and I have a badass werewolf bodyguard. What could possibly happen?"

 

At a collective groan, Stiles caught the cushion Scott had thrown at him, when the dark-haired boy whined, "Now you've jinxed it."

 

Shaking his head in a fond smile, Stiles put in a little ear-stud. "I have jinxed nothing and promise to call should someone shoot me. Now relax, I'm not driving to Frisco, only to Dr. D.!"

 

~ * ~

 


	4. Jinxed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes of course Stiles had jinxed it. You have not really believed that this evening would go smoothly ...

 

Derek decided that he hated Stiles Stilinski with all his heart.

 

They had arrived at the clinic precisely at ten p.m. Stiles had walked around the front desk, holding the barrier open for Derek while Deaton had put a little spaniel into a cage in the back room. On the exam table had lain the offensive leather collar.

 

"You can wait outside, Mr. Hale," Deaton had not even looked at them, as he washed the dog-hair off his hands.

 

But Derek hadn't budged. At the house Stiles had just given him an inkling of what was expected of him, namely posing at the boy's bodyguard. Glad that he could earn his keep with most of his clothes on, Derek was determined to do his best to fulfil this position. "I am supposed to protect Mr. Stilinski. I can't do that if I am in the other room."

 

"You don't have to protect me from Dr. D., wolf-boy. Go and educate yourself on the latest fashion, because I have it on good authority that Lydia will drag you to the Mall tomorrow."

 

Derek had not liked it, had not liked it at all, but had given in, since Stiles had given him a direct order. It would not improve his situation if he showed himself stubborn on his first day.

 

After an hour, in which he had heard incomprehensible words filtering through the door and had smelled herbs that had made his nose itch; Dr. Deaton had opened the door again, inviting him in. The vet had looked exhausted and a little grey around the nose, but he had nothing on Stiles. The teenager was sitting on the exam-table, hunched over with an energy drink in his hand. When he weaved at Derek tiredly, his face white as the walls surrounding him, his cheeks and eyes sunken in.

 

Yet before the werewolf got the chance to comment on his dreadful appearance, Stiles had picked up the collar, and gestured for Derek to come closer. Reluctantly the man had come to him, eying the leather mistrustfully. Tiredly Stiles rubbed his arm in an attempt to comfort him. "I'm sorry big guy, but we both know that you have to wear this. We can think about removing it in a few months but for now everybody has to believe that you are nothing but my thrall."

 

Dreading the oppressive force weighting him down again, Derek couldn’t help but beg, "Please, I won't … I won't cause any problems. You don't need this."

 

"Hey … shhhh," Instantly Stiles had been on his knees, towering slightly over Derek, caressing his cheeks in an attempt to calm him. "It's not the same one … I promise. Dr. D. and I just made another. It smells and will feel like magic to an outsider, but I won't … I would never force such a spell on another human being."

 

Lowering his eyes, helpless against the soft touches he wanted, no needed so much, Derek had whispered, "I am not human."

 

But Stiles had shaken his head resolutely. "Of course you are. You are human and wolf. You are like a human plus more. That's even better! But you still are human. Please, just trust me on this."

 

Was he willing to support his own demise? Derek hadn't been able to say. It had been hard for him to think past the tender caresses. His wolf had egged him on, eager to do anything that would make Stiles happy. Too weak to fight his own instincts Derek had finally given in and the next moment Stiles hands had left his skin. He had mourned their loss, but had not moved until he had felt the soft leather around his throat.

 

"I'm going to close it now; I have to bind the magic to me. Tell me if it's uncomfortable."

 

'It is!' Derek had wanted to shout the moment the leather had touched him. But contradicting his expectations, the leather had felt soft against his skin. He couldn't remember the material of the first collar, the magic had clouded his mind too much to pay attention to it. But this one felt nearly comfortable, it felt like Stiles. The boys scent clung to the material and when he closed the latch Derek could feel the faint buzzing of magic being activated, but nothing more.

 

Confused he had looked up. "Shouldn't it …"

 

Smiling tiredly, gratefully wolfing down the chocolate bar Deaton had just brought him, Stiles had shaken his head. "No, it does exactly what it is supposed to. For a casual observer it will appear like the original collar, but the main enchantment is missing. I will never, ever force my will on another person by magic."

 

Understanding had dawned on Derek, "You made this. For me. You have exhausted yourself, so I wouldn't have to wear the one Peter gave you?"

 

"Yep," Stiles had admitted, sliding from the table. "And nobody will ever be the wiser."

 

Instinctively Derek had supported the swaying teenager when he had wavered on his feet. Whatever had happened here tonight it had taken a lot out of the boy. But clearly neither Deaton nor Stiles wanted to address it. So Derek had ducked his head in gratitude, steadying Stiles on their way to his Jeep.

 

Unfortunately, they were no longer alone and Derek finally learned what it meant to be connected to a mobster like Stiles Stilinski.

 

How very much he hated the boy right now, for his nonchalant attitude in such a dangerous situation.

 

~ * ~

 

Half a dozen young boys were surrounding the Jeep, scratching the paint and slitting the soft-top. When he saw them Stiles froze beside Derek and his fury grew so strong it made the werewolf stagger, as it emanated from him. His hand vanished into the front-pocket of his hoody, ordering absentmindedly, "Don't get shot, and don't shift unless absolutely necessary."

 

After a few moments he hissed angrily at the rowdies, "You better have a very good explanation for this."

 

Snickering the group turned away from the car, circling Derek and Stiles. The werewolf tried to push the human behind himself, when weapons were drawn, but Stiles refused to take cover.

 

The leader of the group trailed his gun on Stiles. "You should have cared for better protection. You and your new guy won't be enough to deal with all of us. So you better drop the attitude and listen."

 

Looking at the heavens, seemingly praying for strength, Stiles replied, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. But fine, this is me dropping the attitude, now please be so kind and tell me why you feel the need to destroy my Jeep?"

 

"Your Jeep?" The other guy snickered. "This isn't about your worthless car, this is about you barging into Manelo's territory! We're here to deliver a warning. Stay out of Pittsburgh's drug trade, our boss has it covered."

 

"Alright, is that it?"

 

"No, that isn't it you little wannabe-gangster! Your dad might've been one fucking big fish, but you're nothing! You can't even afford the right amount of protection, clearly your dear mother has …"

 

But before the guy could finish this sentence, Stiles had closed the distance and landed his fist right into the guys face, catching him completely by surprise. The young man staggered back and spit out blood. Angrily he hissed, "You shouldn't have done that." Before raising the weapon he had let droop during his insulting, little speech.

 

Stiles had the presence of mind to at least turn around and protect his head before the shot was fired. The force of the impact pushed him right into Derek's arms and in that moment the werewolf lost it. With a furious howl he threw himself at Stiles attacker. He felt a bullet piercing his belly, another one hitting his shoulder, but he did not care about the pain. These were normal bullets. He would heal. But Stiles …

 

He was so focused on hitting this guy with his normal, human hands – Stiles last order still lingered at the back of his head – that he did not even realize that none of the other boys had attacked him. When he pulled back for a final hit, long, elegant fingers wrapped around his wrist and a calm voice ordered, "Enough, Derek."

 

Looking around, the man realized that not only was Stiles towering over him, apparently unharmed, but that Scott, Aiden and Isaac were there as well. Allison was standing on the rooftop, a drawn bow in her hand and closest to him were a gorgeous blonde, holding down one of the guys, and a huge black teenager, who seemed to be a wall of muscle, dealing with another one of their attackers. All in all, they had everybody covered, so Derek slowly pulled back from the half-dead figure on the floor.

 

Crouching down, Stiles poked through the whole of his hoody, revealing the bullet-proved vest he had been wearing all evening. "This is one of my favourite hoodies, you know. But I will forgive you for blasting a whole through it. I love this Jeep, and you messed my baby up pretty badly, but I can be lenient even in this. But nobody, _nobody_ says a _word_ about my mother."

 

Looking over his shoulder and capturing the gaze of Allison on the roof, a throwing knife dug into the ground of the parking lot right beside his foot a moment later. Pulling it out, Stiles watched the streetlight reflect on its surface before he ordered, "Hold his head."

 

Confused Derek obliged, because he was the one closest, but what happened next nearly made him throw up. Casually Stiles dragged the tip of the blade over the man's forehead, his eyebrow, down his cheek to his chin. "Next time we see each other," the boy promised softly, "This cut will go all the way through. I will let you keep it as a little reminder why it's a really, really bad idea to piss me off."

 

When Stiles held back his hand, a little bottle was put into it and he emptied the contents over the man's bleeding face. Derek had to cover his mouth to muffle the victim's agonizing screams. It didn't take more than a few seconds for the guy to pass out.

 

Rising to his feet, Stiles addressed the others. "Take him to your boss as my answer. _Nobody_ messes with my territory! The Stilinski family has held Pittsburgh for more than a decade and I am determined to keep it."

 

Glancing at his friends, who nodded at him, Stiles helped Allison from the roof and instructed. "Into the car, Derek."

 

The werewolf did not feel very comfortable with an Argent at his back, but was too shocked by the events to speak up. Once they were on the road he recalled something. "You have a gun, why didn't you use it?"

 

Capturing Allison's eyes in the rear-view mirror, Stiles let her answer for him, "Because we don't kill humans, if we can help it. No matter how stupid they are."

 

"He would have killed you." Derek couldn't bring himself to address the girl, so he kept looking at Stiles.

 

"That's why I was wearing a vest." Looking at the werewolf beside him, Stiles reminded him. "I may be young Derek, but my parents taught me well. They were in this business ever since coming to America, never forget that."

 

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

 

~ * ~

 

"Derek needs a place to sleep. Prepare the room next to mine."

 

They had stood in the driveway for a few minutes before Stiles had spoken. When Allison inhaled to speak, the boy just turned around and looked at her. "Please, Allison."

 

With a sad sigh, she nodded and nudged Derek out of the car. Though the young man didn't want to be alone with her, he followed obediently into the house and up the stairs.

 

She clearly felt uncomfortable when opening the door that led from Stiles bedroom to a small room at the side. Said room was more or less bare, dominated by a few boxes stacked under the window and a wardrobe right next to the door. Scott appeared in the doorway of Stiles bedroom a few moments later.

 

"What are you guys doing in here? Stiles doesn't like …"

 

But before he could finish the sentence, Allison interrupted him. "Stiles wants him to sleep here."

 

With a weird look on his face, Scoot gazed at Derek. After a few moments he seemed to come to a decision. "He will need a bed."

 

"Who will need a bed?"

 

Turning around, Derek could see that all the others were crammed into Stiles bedroom, trying to get a look through the door.

 

Stiles interrupted their musings, ordering quietly, "Gather a few pallets from downstairs. We will think about an alternative tomorrow."

 

Sighing deeply the boy addressed the werewolf, "Derek, you're with me."

 

~ * ~

 

The teenagers were spilling out of them room, uncharacteristically silent, and Derek followed Stiles into his bathroom. The boy was rummaging through one of his cupboards when he instructed Derek to strip. Freezing mid-motion the young man swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment to supress a shiver, before taking off his shirt. He should not have forgotten that Stiles was a mobster. His cruel, sadistic behaviour this evening had proven that. He might refrain from killing people, despite having the means to it, but cutting the face of their leader and nearly drowning him with salt-water afterwards had been unspeakably cruel.

 

So it was not surprising for Derek that the boy now wanted to make use of what he had received today. After an exhausting hour at the vet's and the unpleasant encounter in the parking lot, he surely was entitled to a little fun. Maybe things would not be too bad if Derek followed Laura's advice. It was not as if he could disobey. Stiles' agreement with the Hales made Derek his property, to use as he saw fit. The young man was just about to open his trousers when the boy straightened, turning him around so that he was facing the mirror, forced to hold on to the counter so that he would not topple over.

 

Tensing anxiously, waiting for Stiles' hands to roam his body, to undress him completely and execute his rights, Derek was surprised when he just heard another tired sigh. That did not sound like someone who was looking forward to have sex. "I remember telling you specifically not to get shot!"

 

Derek nearly turned around, but Stiles hands on his uninjured shoulder kept him in place. A pack of sterile patches were opened, and Stiles told Derek absent minded, "Take a deep breath, this is going to hurt," before he dug into the wound, nearly making the werewolf scream from the unexpected pain. Yet it was over within a few seconds, before the clinging of metal in the sink indicated the removal of the bullet from Derek's shoulder.

 

The overwhelming smell of disinfectant filled the bathroom but surprisingly the medicine did not hurt. The boy was also very careful to cover the wound with the patch he had prepared earlier.

 

Nudging Derek around Stiles repeated the treatment on the bullet that had entered Derek's stomach and hurt like hell. His body had tried to heal the damage, but the bulled had continued to cause destruction on his internal organs. The process of getting it out was agonizing but swift and Stiles sprayed something into the wound before patching him up, just like before.

 

Putting away the extensive first-aid-kit, the boy mumbled, "Your bed should be ready by now. We will talk tomorrow," dismissing the werewolf, without even looking at him.

 

So there would be no making use of Derek tonight. He was just sent to his pallet like a dog who had fulfilled his duties. Well, at least Stiles had taken his time to patch him up. If Derek pushed his dread aside, Stiles had treated him pretty decent today. So when reaching for the door Derek hesitated for a moment before turning around. "Mr. Stillinski?"

 

"Stiles," the boy corrected him, looking exhausted but trying to smile.

 

Derek wished for a moment that he had not spoken, because the joyful, snarky, energetic guy from the afternoon was gone. Stiles eyes were flat and emotionless, so the werewolf needed a second to remembering what he had wanted to say. "I just wanted … uhm … thank you … Stiles."

 

With a half-hearted smile, that did not reach his eyes, Stiles nodded. "You are welcome Derek. Now go to bed. And don't worry. Nobody will enter your room without your permission. You are completely safe there."

 

Not even realizing that this had been one of his worries, Derek sagged against the door for a second, before he pushed himself upright again. It was hard to believe but he would take Stiles' word for it. Especially, because the teenager had not lied when making that promise.

 

~ * ~

 

The werewolf poked at the wound on his stomach when entering 'his' room, and froze mid-step.

 

There actually were pallets on the floor. Three of them if Derek counted them correctly. They filled the entire space under the window from one wall to the other. They were covered by something like yoga-mats and on top of it were several, six inch thick pads that were wrapped into a very tight fitting sheet. A huge sofa-cushion had been stuffed into a bedding, as well as a fluffy blanket. At the 'head' of his make-shift bed a small footstool had been covered by a richly embroidered cloth. On top of it were a litre-bottle of water and a digital alarm clock, with soft, green-glowing numbers.

 

It really was not much, certainly not worth the reaction it was causing, but with a quiet sob, Derek sank into his new bed, wrapping himself into the blanket, inhaling the unobtrusive fragrance of laundry detergent that was mixed with the faint scents of everybody who had helped to set this up.

 

These people, these kids knew nothing about him. Best case scenario, they knew him to be a toy for their boss. In the worst case they thought him to be a spy from a competing family. Absolutely nothing justified the length they had gone today to help him and make him feel welcome. They had even thought about an alarm-clock so that he would have enough light to orient himself in the unfamiliar room, despite the shutters being closed. Derek had not felt so cared for in a very long time, and no matter what would happen tomorrow, maybe this would not be as bad as he and Laura had feared.

 

~ * ~

 

 


	5. A night in the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the encounter in the parking lot of Deaton's clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should clarify something: Derek is not aware that he is living in a house where the majority of the inhabitants are werewolves. That's why there was close to no growling and no glowing eyes at that point. There are subtle indications that these kids are a pack, but Derek is a slightly blind for them, because he has never lived with humans (only with his family and alone) so they don't register in his mind. Did you notice?  
> Also: the Hales don't know about the Stilinski-McCall pack and there is a good reason for it. I know it sounds a little unbelievable at the moment to hide something so huge, but please stay with me, it shall all be revealed ;). I promise, I will make it worth your while.

 

While Derek was wrapping himself in his new sheets, Stiles was still standing in his bathroom, washing the werewolf's blood from his fingers. The boy didn't know how long he had stood there until Scott appeared in the doorway, throwing him his jacket. "Come on, let's go."

 

"Scott, I really don't think …"

 

"No, Stiles," the dark-haired boy interrupted him. "Let's go."

 

Aware that it would be of no use to contradict his best friend, Stiles pulled the jacket over his perforated hoodie and followed him outside. Wordlessly he accepted the helmet Scott offered and they were off on Scott's bike, entering the woods that surrounded nearly the entire Beacon Hills Area.

 

When they reached the vantage point where they could look over all of Beacon Hills, Scott pulled a bottle of whiskey from his jacket and offered it to Stiles.

 

Sinking to the ground, his back to the huge boulder that dominated the cliff-top, Stiles opened it and took a deep drag, before passing the bottle over. "Don't you too have the feeling that we are running in circles all the time? I mean we secure one region and then someone new dealer pops up, thinking he can take it from us and the whole thing starts anew. Don't you wish sometimes that we were nothing but teenagers?"

 

Smiling sadly, Scott took a sip from the bottle, before giving it back. He didn't want to take too much since the alcohol had no effect on him. He slowly slid down beside his best friend since kindergarten, putting an arm around Stiles comfortingly. Neither of the two were worried about someone surprising them, not in the middle of _their_ woods, with Scott on full alert. "You mean with no other trouble than me and some of the others being bitten by some crazy werewolf, worrying only about how to get through the next full moon? I wonder if our life would ever be that easy."

 

"Easier than managing the distribution of illegal substances and other lucrative businesses, and the constant monitoring of our area." Stiles mumbled, drowning half the bottle in one go.

 

"Stiles, don't. Getting yourself alcohol-poisoning won't help. And my mum will yell at you … and me." Scott reminded his friend, taking the bottle away. Quietly he whispered, "Remember what your father has said."

 

"If we don't care for our business, someone else will take over. And you can never know if this other person will care as much about the well-being of our people as we do." Stiles recited from memory, sinking against Scott. "I know that people in general and mobsters in particular are assholes. But maybe I don't want to care about all of these people. Maybe I want a normal life! Caring only about you. You and the others."

 

"Really?" Scott asked, "You want Katerina and her clan to deal with another patron for her club? You want the vendors downtown to pay someone else for their protection? You want another hunter family in this area because let me tell you something bro, Chris Argent is the only sane representative of this profession I have ever met. The rest of his family included. Well, apart from Allison obviously.

 

"Do you think that anybody else would be as lenient with the Hales and Peter's little trips into the land of insanity as Chris Argent? What do you think would have happened with me and Isaac, with Erica and Boyd after Peter had bitten us? Can you imagine the destruction four new werewolves could cause, if we had nobody to turn to, nobody to anchor and guide us? Do you think the Hales would have taken a miss-fitting bunch of teenagers under their wing and be happy about it? They have enough on their plate already without dealing with us. And I don't think that anyone of us would be as happy as he is now, with another Alpha but you.

 

"We are here for a reason Stiles, _you_ are here for a reason. You shouldn't forget that. All of these people are grateful for your support, even if they have to pay for it. You are fair and you are just. What more can anybody expect?"

 

"Maybe a kid not getting his face cut open because some jerk hired him to scare me?" Stiles mumbled into the confines of his arms, where he had warped them around his knees. "And I'm not an Alpha, you are. I'm not even a werewolf."

 

Closing his eyes, because Scott knew that this was the point they had to reach tonight, he pulled his best friend into a tight hug. "You injured him, yes, but you did not beat him up, as most others would have. That was Derek's doing, because he was angry on your behalf, and rightfully so I might add. He watched you getting shot after all. And maybe that was not so bad, because now the word will spread that you have a very protective and vicious new bodyguard. Maybe things will cool down for a bit. A fearsome guy like Derek could work to your advantage.

 

"And we both know that you don't have to be a werewolf to care and protect your pack."

 

Sighing slightly Scott rubbed his friend's arms comfortingly. "I know you hate this, Stiles, believe me, I do. But it's all about the impression you leave in the minds of the people. The more you scare them, the less likely is it that they will attack. It's only been six months Stiles. Give it time, it will get better."

 

"You promise?" Stiles hiccupped, snuggling deeper into Scott's embrace, needing to feel the warmth and the comfort.

 

Rubbing his check against his friends hair, Scott whispered, "I promise" before offering the bottle once again so that Stiles could drink away the horrible images he had created for himself that evening.

 

~ * ~

 

The next morning Derek awoke to a throbbing pain in his ribcage.

 

When he shot up from the floor he realized embarrassed that he had shifted during the night and that he was now in Stiles' room. The next thing he noticed was the coppery tang of blood in the air and a painful moan from Stiles.

 

The teenager was steadying himself on the doorframe, on his hands and knees, crouching towards the wall to lean against it. When he finally turned around, Derek could see a cut on his forehead that was bleeding sluggishly. Stiles must have stepped on him on his way out of bed and now he was injured.

 

When the other inhabitants of the house flooded the room, filling it with concern and worry, Derek couldn't supress a whine. This was all his fault!

 

He remembered falling asleep in his new bed last night, and Stiles and Scott's return around one in the morning. He had smelled Stiles' despair even through the closed door and had heard his quiet sobs. He remembered wishing desperately that he could help, but he had been well aware that he was in no position to offer comfort.

 

At some point during the night his wolf must have taken over, that's why he sat huddled beside Stiles' bed now, tail wrapped around his paws to appear as small as possible. He watched the concerned friends of his estimated Alpha fussing over the boy, trying to make no sound. He wanted to apologize, to ask if Stiles would be alright. He was only human after all and they healed pretty slowly. But he couldn't bring himself to rise and shift back into his human form since that would draw everybody's attention.

 

He had no business in this room, had even been given one of his own and he was ashamed that he had lost control like a teenage-werewolf after his first shift.

 

~ * ~

 

Having cleared his head a little, Stiles pushed his friends to the side, so that he had a direct line of sight to Derek. Opening his hand he coaxed the wolf, "Come here, boy."

 

Reluctantly Derek lowered himself to his belly and robbed closer, waiting for the inevitable punishment for having caused harm. But the teenager only petted his belly and ribcage, checking for injuries.

 

It was Scott who finally broke through the beehive of concerned whispers. "What happened, Stiles?"

 

Content that Derek was alright, Stiles scratched the wolf's neck and looked up at his friend sheepishly. "I stepped on Derek. Totally my fault, I should have opened my eyes when leaving my bed. So no terrorist attack and no World War III. You can all go back to bed now, crisis averted."

 

Obviously the other teenagers accepted that explanation and left, but Scott stayed, crouching down in front of Stiles and Derek. Gingerly he touched his friend's forehead, advising him, "Mum should have a look at this."

 

"Sure, but first I need a shower." Looking down at Derek once he got up, Stiles offered, "I will make it quick and you can use it in ten." Before he disappeared into the bathroom he added with a crooked smile, "And Derek, maybe you should chose a place close to the wall next time. Much safer for the both of us."

 

~ * ~

 

Turning around slowly, Scott now focused on Derek, requesting in a quiet voice, "Please change and put on some pants."

 

Derek supressed a shiver when returning to his room. This was going to be ugly, he knew it. He deserved whatever the boy had in store for him though, he had injured his acting Alpha after all. Still he was tense with nervous anticipation. Putting on the sweat-pants and the muscle-shirt from yesterday, since it was faster than the jeans and button-down, he returned to Stiles room within a minute.

 

Scott was standing at the window and hesitantly Derek approached him. "I am sorry."

 

Turning around, Scott flashed him a tiny smile and nodded. "I believe you. But Stiles has been my best friend since childhood. I know when he is lying. He did not step on you because he was clumsy. So what has happened?"

 

"I …" at loss for words, Derek looked out of the window. But then he folded his hands over his chest. He would not search for whimsical excuses. He might be the Omega of this pack, but he could still stand up for his own mistakes and take whatever punishment he was given. He was a werewolf after all, he was not weak!

 

So he raised his chin and looked into Scott's eyes when he admitted, "I heard him returning yesterday night. He was sad and sometimes between him going to bed and this morning I lost control of my wolf and he decided that we should sleep beside his bed. To offer comfort. It's a werewolf-thing. Proximity helps in a pack."

 

He did not add that he had missed such comfort for quite a while now and that it had felt good being close to Stiles. Ever since the incident with the Argents where the Hales had lost a part of their family. He had not pressed for contact with his own pack and apparently his parents had seen no need to pull him back into their midst.

 

In his opinion he had not deserved comfort, so he had been alright with that. But still, when sensing Stiles desperation and sadness he had not been able to ignore it. Not when he had had the means to help, at least that's what his wolf had been convinced of.

 

Nodding Scott hesitated for a moment before speaking again. His voice was low and serious. "Derek what I am about to tell you now is not meant to intimidate you or to frighten you, though it might sound like that. It's simply the truth and I hope you can understand that."

 

Mystified by the puzzling comment, Derek nodded and relaxed his arms a little.

 

The dark-haired teenager looked out of the window briefly before returning his attention to the werewolf. "Apart from my mum, Stiles is one of the most important people in my life. There is nothing … nothing in this world, I would not do to protect either of them. Take this as a piece of advice, an information that will make your life here much easier if you heed it: If you ever hurt Stiles intentionally, if you so much as scratch him or hurt a hair on his head, I will tear you apart piece by piece. Born werewolf or not. Do you understand?"

 

Opposite to Scott's worries, Derek actually smiled at that promise. This was a world he could understand, friends, family, pack who would do everything in their power to protect each other, to punish those who brought harm to their loved ones. So the werewolf relaxed and lowered his head. "I understand. Thank you for telling me."

 

He looked up when Scott touched his shoulder. "You are part of this family now. I will tell you everything you need to know."

 

"You don't even know me." Derek mumbled. "How can you think of me as part of your family already?"

 

In the wolf's opinion, this human boy was far too trusting. True Derek had gone out of his way to defend Stiles yesterday, had even caught two bullets on his behalf. But humans didn't have the same instincts as wolves. How could they be so sure that he was trustworthy?

 

Smiling softly, Scott gestured towards the bathroom. "Because Stiles trusts you. That's good enough for me."

 

"How can you know that?"

 

Pulling back his hand after squeezing Derek's shoulder briefly, Scott headed towards the door. "Because he let you sleep beside him. Stiles is a very light sleeper. There is no way he didn't notice you coming in, drunk or not. He might not have thought about it in the morning, but had he not approved of you being here, he would have either kicked you out, or left the room. There are plenty of beds in this house where he is welcome."

 

On an afterthought, the boy added, "Oh, and if I were you, I would accept his invitation. The bed is much softer than the floor after all." And with a wink he was gone.

 

Confused, Derek tried to remember the events from last night. His wolf was a big help, because when Derek's human-side worried about them being welcome in the first place, the wolf reminded him that Stiles had petted them briefly, before turning around, finally succumbing to a deep sleep. So Stiles had noticed them coming in, even if it had been only for a heartbeat.

 

When Stiles emerged from the bathroom with only a towel around his waist and another pressed to his forehead, Derek approached him and looked at the teenager with concern. The boy was rummaging through his drawers for a change of clothes before smiling at him. "Don't worry, I'm just going to let Melissa fuss over me a little and during breakfast I will be as good as new."

 

Remembering something Stiles looked at Derek's throat and grinned. "But hey, at least we know that the collar doesn't strangle you in your wolf-form. That's something."

 

Actually Derek had all but forgotten about the collar. He had not felt it as a wolf. Sure the magic was there if he concentrated on it, but it was superficial; did not seep into his bones and suffocated him as the last one had.

 

~ * ~

 

When entering the kitchen, Melissa had just finished a huge mountain of pancakes and everybody he had met yesterday surrounded the breakfast-counter to share bits and pieces of uneven or slightly burned pancakes. The table was already set with juice and coffee, tea and jam, ham, cheese and some sprouts that looked more like a decoration than food.

 

When Derek stepped closer, slightly hesitant, Isaac offered him the last part of his pancake before stealing Aiden's. He did not even look at the wolf at the time, acted as if it was the most natural thing in the word to share food with a stranger.

 

Breakfast with these teenagers was a lively affair. They all talked on top of each other. The gorgeous blonde who had introduced herself as Erica last night, continued to steal strawberries from Stiles plate, when passing his chair to pick up the juice.

 

Her boyfriend, appeared quite stoic but smiled when she shared a big berry with a kiss. Aiden grumbled when Lydia took away his coffee, offering herbal tea instead and Isaac pointedly groaned in delight, when he took the first sip of his own coffee, taunting the other guy.

 

~ * ~

 

Everybody seemed relaxed and carefree until Stiles asked Lydia for his schedule for today.

 

She recited names and places, from the top of her head. With a groan Stiles looked at the schedule on his ever present pad and gazed at her in surprise when she talked about his afternoon meetings. "You won't attend?"

 

"No," the redhead shook her head. "I will see that your latest acquisition gets groomed and trimmed for the evening. You want him to impress after all, don't you?"

 

Derek felt dread bubbling up when Stiles looked at him and bit his own bottom lip seductively before purring. "Oh yes, that's exactly what I want. Make him all nice and shiny, Lydia."

 

Snorting a little Lydia shook out her hair. "As if I would settle for anything less. But you will give me your credit card, because I won't stop at the basics."

 

Derek did his best to calm his breathing and lock down his trembling body. So tonight it would happen. Why had he allowed Stiles leniency from last night to delude him into thinking that he was safe? Clearly Stiles appreciated the strong and silent type, but he obviously expected more from his new acquisition.

 

Looking around, Derek realized that everybody, though clad comfortably, still wore clothes of extraordinarily good quality. Clearly Stiles found no appeal in looking at Derek in either borrowed jeans as he had worn last night or sweatpants and the muscle-shirt he was wearing now.

 

So when Stiles decided, "Alright, so Derek is with Lydia. Scott and Aiden are with me; Isaac you can help our fashion goddess with shopping."

 

Everybody agreed with a nod and Stiles, Scott and Aiden rose from the table, to change.

 

When Stiles came back downstairs he wore a suit once again, but instead of a black one with a white shirt, today he had chosen a dark-blue colour with soft champagne shirt that made his warm eyes and fair skin stand out even more. Scott and Aiden sported identical two-pieces, similar to the one Isaac had worn yesterday. They all fastened the ear-studs and left with a weave.

 

The purring of an unfamiliar engine indicated that they were using another car instead of the Jeep.

 

Since Derek apparently looked confused Allison explained, "They beat up the Jeep pretty badly last night and Stiles loves this car. He will take care of the repairs before he drives it again."

 

~ * ~

 


	6. Welcome and unwelcome customers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia on a shopping spree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I am a huge imbecile, having chapters ready but not posting them for a week. I'm really sorry.

 

Hoping for the best but really expecting the worst, Derek was taken aback when he followed Lydia Martin into the shopping mall. They passed several shops with clothing racks outside, offering colourful shirts and jeans at a discounted price.

 

The werewolf tended to not enjoy such crowded places with entertainment centres. The amount of noise made him dizzy. Since his family had enough money … well used to have enough money, he had been able to afford shopping in boutiques.

 

Lydia, however, navigated the place like a professional shopper. Not only did the people part before her; her determined walk and her heels on the stone floor broadcasted her position as well. Strangely she passed by every shop with sale-signs in the window.

 

Derek froze, when he realized her heading towards a sex-shop and a tattoo parlour. Only Isaac's hand on his back nudging him forward put him in motion again. That and the mumbled warning, "You don't want to hold back when Lydia's on a shopping spree. That won't end well for any of us."

 

Still Derek nearly dragged his feet, his mind conjuring up the most horrible images of toys or clothes the redhead could want to acquire in a shop like that. Did Stiles liked using toys? Or worse whips? Would he hurt Derek, even if he showed himself compliant? It was not as if the werewolf would not heal within minutes.

 

Derek had heard about some frightening kinks when he had collected his family's fees in New York. One of their customers had been a Club caring for the needs of very special guests. They had had ropes and paddles infused with aconite, holy water and woven metal strings that would hold even the strongest creature. Everybody working there had been prepared to satisfy customers of the supernatural variety.

 

Stiles could go from friendly to cruel in a heartbeat, Derek had seen that yesterday. So how where his preferences in the bedroom? Was he languid and lenient, chasing pleasure for himself and his partner? Or did he prefer to work out all the tension he was accumulating through the day, possibly viciously. Probably Stiles would enjoying a pet ready for him every evening, since he healed from every abuse within a few hours?

 

Though Stiles had not come on to him until now, well other than with words, Derek couldn't keep his dreadful thoughts at bay. Too vivid was the picture of his older sister, her emotionless eyes and her taunt body after returning from the other clan, their mother had made her work for.

 

~ * ~

 

Lydia's sharp voice brought him back to reality when she demanded, "Derek, calm down. I won't go in there with you all freaked out."

 

Looking around and realizing that they had passed the sex-shop as well as the tattoo parlour, Derek took in the sign of this particular shop. It was a small, but exclusive, boutique that sold various types of clothes from numerous designer labels.

 

When Lydia looked at the door expectantly, Derek entered feeling distinctively underdressed in borrowed jeans and a tank-top. In the past his clothes had been of little concern to him. If he had needed a new suit, he had known where to go and within a day or two it had been delivered. Over the last few years new clothes had become somewhat of a luxury, only acquired for occasions where his Alpha had wanted them to dress up.

 

Obviously Stiles had the same intentions. Derek honestly didn't know if this thought eased him or made him more nervous. He especially didn't like the way the sales-clerk brought along the manager, a lady with a pencil-skirt, high-heels and a razor-sharp smile who traded air-kisses with Lydia.

 

Her voice was slow and seductive when she looked Derek up and down. "So this is your new boy. How sweet. I already found his tailor in New York and have received his measurements. Though finding something for tonight might be on a little short notice. However, I am sure we can satisfy Mr. Stilinski."

 

"As always, Miss Simmons," Lydia confirmed. "We didn't expect anything less."

 

The manager was sharing air-kisses with Isaac as well, when Lydia guided Derek into the back of the boutique where a part of the shop was staged as a dressing room. The area had four wide mirrors from floor to ceiling, a comfortable sitting area at the side, and two cabins that served as separators from the sales area.

 

"Well, where shall we begin?" Lydia graciously sank into an armchair, looking Derek up and down with a calculating gaze.

 

Derek felt distinctively uncomfortable, standing in the middle of these mirrors as he wore clothes that had cost less than a single dress-shirt in this boutique. He nearly flinched when Lydia ordered, "Strip!"

 

Hesitantly he shed his shirt, but after he had opened the first button of his trousers, dreading to be naked in the middle of a boutique, Lydia stopped him. "Alright, alright, I have seen enough. It seems we are starting with underwear. Go," she ushered, "Go into the cabin, I will get you something decent."

 

A minute later, Isaac peeked inside, grinning when he saw Derek standing in front of the mirror that made the backside of the cabin, wide chest hidden behind crossed arms. The tall teenager offered three types of underwear, briefs, boxers and a string.

 

Face tinting red, Derek reached for the briefs, hastened to shed the trousers to put on some underwear. He only realized mid-motion that Isaac had not left. When Derek swallowed thickly around his constricting throat, the teenager just grinned. "Just looking. Lydia wants me to tell her if they are the right size. She thought you would be more comfortable with me than her."

 

Finishing changing Derek coughed discreetly before he admitted, "Yes, that's ... probably true."

 

Looking at Derek's midsection, gesturing him to turn around, Isaac commented absent minded. "Don't worry, we all are. Uncomfortable being naked around Lydia I mean. Well, maybe except Aiden." Touching the waistband to see if it was too tight, Isaac grinned on a small, private joke. "Then on the other hand, maybe Aiden is even more scared of her than the rest of us. He's hers after all."

 

Changing the topic abruptly, Isaac asked, "Would you like to try a bigger size? They seem a little tight around the waist. I mean you look great, but this is underwear, it should be comfortable."

 

Looking down, Derek realized that the pants really were a little on the tight side. Looking at himself in the mirror, he noticed that they framed his ass nicely, but maybe they were too tight to wear all day. So he nodded gratefully, "Yes, please. That would be nice."

 

As expected, Isaac vanished, returning moments later with a similar style, only slightly bigger. This time the briefs were deep black and made of pure cotton. When putting them on, Derek's wolf nearly purred at the comfortable feeling of the high quality fabric brushing over their skin. For the last years, Derek had bought most of his underwear in small shops, avoiding the boutiques. He had decided that, since nobody would see them, it was no use to waste money on them. He hadn't liked to spend any of his family's money if he was not explicitly ordered to, since he didn't feel he had any right to it when his aunt and cousins would never, ever have a chance to enjoy it.

 

Lydia's impatient cough dragged him out of the dressing room and though he wore much less than before, he felt considerably better and didn't interfere when Lydia and the manager talked about possible suits for him, as if he was not standing right in front of them. What came next was pure torture, and a part of Derek wished they had stopped at the sex-store because nothing bought there could compare to the cruelties one Lydia Martin was sentencing him to in a boutique where she obviously intended to buy his entire wardrobe, despite his protests.

 

During the next three hours he tried on two dozen suits, all with different dress-shirts underneath. He had never seen as many brands in the shop as the manager was able to conjure for him, or more for Lydia in that case. Isaac was a true blessing, since he pulled Derek away every now and then, offering snacks, soda or simply demanding his opinion on ties, though they both knew, that his opinion didn't matter in the slightest, since Lydia would decide what to buy. Nevertheless, Derek was infinitely grateful and from the small smile on Isaac's lips the boy was well aware.

 

When they returned after their latest break, they found the woman in deep discussion. Nobody had asked his opinion until now. When he had modelled a suit for them, Lydia had just ordered him to walk, to turn, to kneel even to crouch down. But no matter if they felt tight, or loose, constricted him or simply fell from his shoulders, the redhead had dismissed each and every one with an impatient weave of her hand. The only positive outlook of the morning was, that Lydia already had a list of colours of shirts he would be allowed to wear from now on.

 

White apparently was a no-go for him, cream or champagne shirts found her approval. She had liked a black silk-shirt and had let it put aside, as well as several ones in dark grey, aubergine and smoky-blue. He was even allowed to wear a V-neck undershirt for now, since he had shivered at some point when the inside seam of a jacket had tickled him when Isaac had held it out for him. Concerned that he was cold, Lydia had demanded a few under-shirts for him. Because wearing more would make him considerably more comfortable, he had not corrected her wrong impression.

 

"Well," the manager sighed reluctantly after a little while, seemingly out of options. "We can always go for Tom Ford."

 

Derek snickered under his breath. Sure, nobody would see a problem of buying a several thousand dollar suit for a 'pet' just to make it look groomed. He whipped around surprised when he heard Lydia's answer, "That's an excellent idea. He definitely has the body to pull it off.

 

"Isaac would you be a sweetheart and fetch me one of the pure-cotton cream dress-shirts?"

 

The werewolf couldn't believe his own ears. "You can't be serious. Tom Ford costs about four-thousand dollars. I don't think Stiles would want you to waste so much money on me."

 

"It's four-thousand seven-hundred, but we will get a discount." Lydia looked up from her phone, tilting her head slightly while scrutinizing Derek. "And why do you think that buying a suit for you that's actually fits would be a waste of money?"

 

"I wore other suits that fit today. All of them much cheaper than the one you have in mind." Derek growled, unwilling to relent since he did not want to add to the money Stiles was wasting because of his family.

 

"You were not comfortable in a single one of them." Lydia explained, looking back at her phone, as if this was reason enough to up the price-tags by about thousand dollars.

 

Suddenly Derek was at loss for words. It was not that Lydia was wrong, none of the suits today had felt right to him, but he didn't want to give in. Derek rumbled, "Me being comfortable is hardly the point."

 

He did not like the way Lydia's forehead creased at that statement when she looked at him again, even less when she rose and demanded, "Isaac, keep Mrs. Simmons occupied for a few moments, will you?"

 

Without a comment, Isaac looked up from his own mobile and left the dressing area.

 

The werewolf could not understand why he felt the desire to retreat when the smaller human girl stepped closer. He remembered in the last moment to lower his eyes. Lydia touched his chin with her perfectly manicured fingers, nudging his head up so that he had to look at her. Her words were incredibly tender when she asked, "Which one of us has made you uncomfortable, Derek?"

 

"Nobody," the young man admitted, trying to pull away.

 

 

But Lydia was determined, "Do you think the pallets and the mats and the cushions of your bed were placed there only for convenience? It that had been the case the sofa would have been a better choice for your first night. Isaac searched his wardrobe high and low for the trousers you wore, because he knew that he had a new pair that was too loose for him somewhere. Stiles had taxed himself, far beyond what is sensible, to help Dr. Deaton to make this collar for you. Which one of these gestures make you think that it is _not_ our intention to make you comfortable?"

 

Finally Derek pulled away, humbled by the summary of the kindness he had been shown in a house he had entered for the first time not even a day before. "None of you should waste time on me; I am not worth it." he muttered.

 

Lydia did not follow him when he stepped back and turned away from her. She did not even touch him again, but her words cut deep into his heart, leaving it open and vulnerable, since he had wanted to hear them for such a long time. "Yes, Derek to us, you are worth it."

 

The redhead allowed him a few minutes to collect himself, before she called the manager in again. The suit the woman was offering now was black with the faintest note of violet. When Isaac held up the shirt next to it, Lydia gave her approval.

 

~ * ~

 

Leaving the dressing area in a pair of perfectly fitting dark-blue jeans and a grey t-shirt, Derek nearly toppled over when he saw the numerous bags gathered around the register. He nearly choked when he saw Lydia signing a registry slip for more than thirty thousand dollars, without battering an eyelash.

 

Seemingly unfazed by the huge amount of money she had just spent, she ushered Derek into the next store, buying a pair of dress-shoes of soft Italian leather, a pair of sturdy boots, and running shoes. The total in this shop was about two-thousand dollars but, as before, Lydia just offered him a pair of shoes to wear not picking up a single box.

 

When they left, Isaac grinned, as Derek gazed back in confusion. "They deliver. Believe me, everybody here knows Lydia. They deliver with a smile."

 

But before Derek got the chance to ask how much money they usually spent here, Isaac started whining, "Lyds, I'm hungry!"

 

Hesitating for a moment, the girl decided, "I will confirm our appointment with the hair-dresser, then we can get some lunch."

 

Derek had not even realized until now how hungry he was, but when the scents of the food-court assaulted his nose, he was convinced that he could eat his way from one end to the other. His heart fell when Lydia approached a booth that sold fresh salad, but Isaac dragged him across the court where several grilled chickens were roasted on sticks. "Wanna share?"

 

The moment Derek managed to nod, the teenager approached the vendor and bought one chicken with garlic-bread and grilled corn as side order. He also ordered two sodas and an organic green-tea, before shoving the chicken and the bread into Derek's arms and balancing their drinks and the corn on a tray.

 

Accepting her drink with a grateful smile, Lydia stole their wings for her salad, offering her tomatoes and for the next few minutes they were eating in companionable silence.

 

Isaac's phone chiming interrupted their serene meal. Pulling off a big chunk of meat, Isaac rose after checking it, informing the others, "We are meeting Stiles for a slushy at Joes."

 

Derek was more than surprised that Lydia didn't even protest when her plans were overthrown. She just reapplied her lipstick and they left.

 

~ * ~

 

Back in the car on their way to 'Joes', Derek contemplated that this was the true power of Stiles Stilinski. He was all goofy and smiles and fun most of the time, but when he wanted something – even if it was something as ridiculous as a slushy – and requested the presence of his friends, they left everything standing and followed the demand.

 

Entering a supermarket in the centre of town, Derek spotted Stiles and Scott, discussing the coolness-factor of one type of ice-cream over the other. Stiles wore one of his accustomed hoodies again, but the dark-blue slacks and the dress-shirt underneath spoke of concealed business attire.

 

When Derek tried to make his way over, Lydia pushed a basket into his hand, deciding, "If we have to be here, the least we can do is restock." And with that she made both Isaac and Derek follower her through the rows, putting seemingly random food-items into the basket, ignoring Stiles and Scott completely.

 

It did not take more than five minutes for another customer to appear. But instead of shopping, he approached the counter and whispered to the manager. Though he had spoken under his breath, Derek had been able to get that this was supposed to be a raid.

 

The owner of the market shook slightly from nerves and tried to argue that he could not afford to give away more money. Derek's heart nearly stopped when, out of the blue, Lydia approached the counter asking for a special brand of skimmed milk.

 

At loss of what to do for a moment, the thief obviously adapted to the situation, by deciding that taking a hostage would improve his chances of robbing the store. So he wrapped his arm around Lydia from behind and wove the gun between her and the sales clerk, repeating his demands.

 

Derek looked at Isaac to get a guideline of how to handle the situation, when Stiles appeared beside him. Scott and Isaac took his sides like wingmen, approaching the counter as well. Stiles had lost the hoodie, once again wearing a pristine shirt, slacks, a tie and a waistcoat, looking all business. His voice was friendly, nearly conversational, when he sighed. "You shouldn't have done that."

 

Whipping around and clearly losing control of the situation, the thief howled in agony when Lydia dug her stiletto into his foot, only releasing the pressure when Scott twisted the man's hand behind his back, while Isaac confiscated the weapon, unloading it.

 

Hopping onto the counter, nicking a piece of liquorice from a jar that stood there, Stiles looked at the man who was now slammed onto said counter by Scott, swinging his legs merrily. "Trying to rob a shop in my town is not the wisest move. Doing so when I am making choices on which ice-cream to buy, is exceptionally stupid. But touching my friend Joe here, who makes the best slushies in this town is a big No-No. I have seen the video of your little encounter last week. I know that Joe gave you money and warned you off. But since you don't seem to understand the short words he had used, let's try a more _piercing_ method of explanation."

 

Pulling a knife from his pocket, Stiles nodded at Scott, who steadied the guys hand on the counter. Unsheathing the blade, Stiles informed the thief, "You will never return here. You will not come within a fifty feet distance of either Joe or his shop. And if I hear that you or anybody else, is making trouble again, I will look for you and I will find you, and this," Stiles embedded the blade in the counter, pushing it right through the thief's hand. He leaned down and whispered into the whimpering man's ear, "will go through your neck. Are we clear?"

 

Sobbing uncontrollably, the guy nodded frantically, "Yes, yes we are clear!"

 

"Scott"

 

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski?"

 

"Please show this man the door."

 

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski."

 

With little care, Scott pulled the blade free, holding it threateningly, before throwing the guy out. He cleaned the blood off the knife before handing it back, while Stiles and Joe hugged briefly behind the counter.

 

Smiling Stiles assured the clerk, "You are under my protection; you should have called me last week, right after the first incident with this imbecile! Sorry for getting blood on your furniture. Don't worry, we will pay for a new counter."

 

Smiling the man shook his head, "That is certainly not needed, sir. A little cut with speckles of blood might discourage other potential thieves. Thank you, Mr. Stiles."

 

"Well, you are paying good money to receive protection. That's how it works." Stiles assured him, paying for the ice-cream and the purchases from Lydia before they all left the shop. He did not even get a slushy.

 

~ * ~

 

Never before had Derek heard of a mobster boss seeing personally to a small raid in his area. When he dared to mention it, Scott chuckled, "We actually came here after lunch and wanted to buy some ice-cream for tomorrow. But then Joe told us about last week and since we have a 'three person' policy and Aiden is currently dealing with a particularly stubborn asset, we checked with the others and you guys were the closest."

 

"What is a 'three person' policy?" Derek asked, slightly confused.

 

Lydia, nibbling on a cereal bar, explained patiently. "Ever since Mr. Stilinski had died and Stiles had to take over, we decided that none of us should ever go into a potentially dangerous situation alone or in pairs. We have a lot of territory to cover and we can't afford any losses."

 

A group of friends, taking over from a mob-boss, coordinating, making a name for themselves, and deciding on the least dangerous course of action. Derek had never heard of a crime-family ruled that way, but Stiles seemed to be extremely unique and a small part of Derek was curious to find out more.

 

~ * ~


	7. Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (legal) public appearance for the Stilinski family. (With a little Hale-pack thrown in.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And to prove that this story is really moving forward (not only in my head), another chapter for you :).

 

Apparently missing an appointment was no problem with the hairdresser Lydia had chosen. When they returned to the shop, Derek was instantly offered a seat, a drink and then the barber started to discuss his new hairstyle. With Lydia.

 

At the beginning, the werewolf tried to offer his opinion. But Isaac, leaning casually against the mirror by his side, nudged his lower leg and shook his head minuscule with a faint smirk on his face. The enforcer of the Stilinski family was then ushered into a seat next to Derek and simply closed his eyes and let the nice people here do their work. He didn't bother in the slightest that nobody asked what kind of hairstyle or treatment he would prefer.

 

Despite not even having gotten half of what had been said about him and his new style, Derek was given a head-massage and a peeling. A nurturing fluid was massaged into his face and for the next hour, a young and highly motivated hairdresser was clipping away bits and pieces of his hair until Derek was convinced that there was nothing left.

 

But when he was allowed to look into the mirror again, he had to admit that he looked dashing. The cut was remarkable, and despite having people fuss over his face for the last hour he still had a slight stumble standing, perfectly groomed of course.

 

When Isaac looked into the mirror from over his shoulder, working some product into his hair, the teenager searched for Lydia's eyes in the reflection. "So, what do you think? Are we polished enough to shine for Stiles tonight?"

 

Sighing tiredly, as if all this was a tremendous burden for her, Lydia decided, "Well, they did all they can, so it will do." turning on her heels, leaving the hairdresser.

 

Isaac grinned, and when the werewolf had sagged a little at Lydia's dismissive words, the teenager put a warm hand on his shoulder. "That's the highest praise you will ever get from her. With nothing to improve we are as good as perfect. Now let's get out of here, before she changes her mind."

 

Judging his own reflection, looking at the perfect haircut, Derek put his hand on his shoulder for a second, where Isaac's warmth lingered. Everybody in this group of teenagers seemed highly tactile. But the werewolf would have lied if he said that he didn't enjoy it.

 

~ * ~

 

When Derek, Lydia and Isaac returned to the house, the living-room was a bee-hive of activity. Not only was it loud but Stiles was currently shouting at Erica, weaving a piece of fabric in his hand. "You are not, I repeat: _not_ , wearing this to the fundraiser tonight!"

 

"This dress has cost me six-hundred dollars. I bought it specifically for this occasion!" The gorgeous blonde shouted back, currently only wearing sheer black stockings and a black corset.

 

"It makes you look like a sex-worker!" Stiles yelled.

 

Derek froze, because no woman he knew would ever take such an accusation kindly. Cora would claw his eyes out for less.

 

Erica on the other hand screamed, "That's what I am! I am running your biggest club in this area and managing half a dozen other establishments in the surrounding cities! There is no need for me to hide what I am doing for living!"

 

The shouting-match was about to enter the second round, when Mrs. McCall came down the stairs, wearing a breath-taking, shimmering dark-blue dress, her hair and make-up already perfect. In her hand she held a black stole that was delicately embroidered with white blossoms.

 

Her calm voice instantly dispelled all anger when she said, "Stiles, give Erica her dress back. Erica you will wear this in addition, the emerald broche Boyd has given you for your last anniversary should accompany it nicely."

 

She then turning towards the group, who still stood in the foyer. "Lydia, Derek's things have already been delivered, I had the boys put them in the closet of the first floor, so you can go change.

 

"Stiles, stop starring at Derek and go upstairs and change as well. Derek and Isaac, go shower and get dressed, chop chop. The car will be here in about fifty minutes and we can't afford to be late."

 

Smiling at the redhead when she passed her by on the stairs, the woman offered, "I just finished with Allison, do you want me to do your hair?"

 

A nod and a brief hug later, Lydia vanish into her room and Mrs. McCall's prompting gesture had the others burst into activity once again since everybody had stopped in their tracks, when she had spoken.

 

~ * ~

 

Stiles opened the door to his bathroom, combing back his hair, he invited Derek in complimenting him, "I like your new haircut. It suits you."

 

Derek's wolf started to preen at the compliment and the human part of Derek had to concentrate on accepting the compliment with a grateful smile, keeping his cheeks from burning up and entering the bathroom without making a complete fool of himself.

 

Only when he had started the shower, careful to not get his hair wet, Derek asked himself if it was a good thing that Stiles found him more attractive. Until now he had dodged the bullet of ending up in the teenager's bed. His stomach clenched at the idea of such a task lingering on the horizon. He belonged to Stiles after all.

 

After a few minutes of twisting and turning this problem in his head, Derek decided that it was a good thing that Stiles found him attractive. His wolf, of course, agreed whole-heartedly. Most people were far more careful and less inclined to break the things they found pretty.

 

~ * ~

 

When the car arrived, everybody had gathered in the living room. Stiles stood at the table in an amazing, deep-red suit with a blazing white dress-shirt and a black tie. His hair was artistically touched up, something Derek suspected Lydia having her hands in that. All in all the young man looked absolutely marvellous and from the way he moved he knew it. Opening a big jewellery case, Stiles picked up several golden bracelets, fastening one after the other around the wrists of his friends. Each one had a pendant dangling from the closing mechanism that resembled a tiny sheriff's star.

 

When Derek approached the group, at Stiles prompting, he saw only a five bracelets left. When looking at the wrists of the others, the werewolf realized that every bracelet was unique, suiting the owner perfectly. Picking up one hesitantly, Stiles explained, "Every member of my family received one of these when they came to us. During public events it's our way of showing that we belong to the Stilinski family. Since I haven't had time to make one for you, I will give you mine tonight. It might be a little tight, but it should fit."

 

Offering his wrist, as was obviously expected of him, Stiles wrapped a bracelet around. Derek felt a slight tingle when it closed and stepped back, once the boy was done. Most of the others, smiled at him before checking their hair one last time in the mirror, or touching up their lipstick. Mrs. McCall and Stiles were the last ones to linger at the table.

 

Derek didn't plan to eavesdrop but he couldn't help but overhear their quiet conversation.

 

"You know that your parents wouldn't mind if you chose to wear one of theirs."

 

"I could … I could wear Danny's or Ethan's. They wouldn't mind either."

 

"No, they wouldn't." Mrs. McCall's words were soft, barely more than a breath, when she chose one of the remaining bracelets, holding out her hand for Stile's wrist. "But I think your father would prefer you wearing his over one of your friend's, don't you think?"

 

Closing his eyes when the jewellery was fastened around his wrist, Stiles seemed to change the moment he opened them again. The softness and the insecurities that had lingered in his face not a moment ago were blown away when he straightened his lapels. Leaving the house the others followed quietly. All entering a sleek limousine, Isaac riding shotgun.

 

"Alright," Stiles started, his words calm and self-assured. "All of you know what to do. Lydia, Aiden, you will butter up the mayor and his lovely wife. I am sure you should not have any problems Aiden, when you just smile and show your usual, charming self.

 

"Mrs. McCall, I want you to keep the Sheriff company. He is still quite hostile but he thinks of himself as a true gentleman, I am sure you can find a way to work with that.

 

"Scott, Allison, I want you to take your time and talk with our distributors and the assistant medical director from the Beacon Hills hospital.

 

"Isaac, Derek, you are with me. Isaac, are you armed?"

 

Sliding down the separator the blond boy turned around. "Yes, Mr. Stilinski, but I will meet Mr. Argent up front if that's alright with you. There are special guests attending tonight."

 

"Alright. I don't expect any problems, but better safe than sorry. Derek, whatever happens, my order from yesterday night still stands. Do you understand?"

 

Recalling the last order Stiles had given him, him not to get shot and not to shift until absolutely necessary, Derek confirmed, "Yes, Mr. Stilinski, I understand."

 

"Good," Stiles smiled calculating, when they pulled up in front of the Museum that hosted the fundraiser for the local community college, every year. They were gathering money so that more children from families with low incomes could receive a decent education. "Let the show begin."

 

~ * ~

 

When Isaac was talking to Chris Argent and receiving a small package from him, Lydia pulled Derek aside.

 

"You have not received the official PR-brochure for the Stilinski trading company until now, so I think it would be best if you don't talk in there." After a moment she stressed, "At all, Derek. Are we understood?"

 

Lowering his head in submission, Derek nodded, "Yes, Lydia."

 

Not that he would have had a lot to say anyway. But being told to shut up, no matter what, brought his position in this pack … this crime family, back to the forefront of his mind.

 

~ * ~

 

The evening turned out to be perfectly boring. Derek had no problems heeding Lydia's instructions since most conversations Stiles engaged in, either revolved around the topic of Beacon Hill's educational system or other business Derek was not interested in.

 

Things changed however, when around eleven the Hale-family entered the Museum. The guests had already received a grand tour, been familiarized with the latest changes of the College's schedule and had eaten and drunk their fill. Though the pieces were tiny, Stiles had generously offered plates he had composed for himself to either him or Isaac all evening.

 

Derek watched his family longingly, before realizing that it would not do to ponder on the things he had lost. He now belonged to the Stilinski family and Stiles should be his main priority. Still he didn't leave his parents and sisters out of his eyes when they socialized with the other guests.

 

Paying more attention to the guests now, Derek started to realize that everybody in Stiles' company was very good at talking to people and even better at getting people to talk to them.

 

Pondering on why they felt the need to gather information during such a formal occasion, he missed Stiles and Isaacs brief exchange when the boy told his enforcer, "Go and tell Laura that I want to talk to her. The second store gallery, midnight." Because when Derek returned his attention to Stiles, Isaac was already gone.

 

Stiles had not missed the longing gaze Derek had thrown his family. Talia had ignored him, as had her husband. But Cora had briefly returned his looks and Laura had looked downright pained when their eyes had met. That's why Stiles had decided that his werewolf should ease his sister. Tell her that Stiles was not a pervert, who had dragged him into his bedroom on his tail, or had locked him up in a shack in the backyard.

 

~ * ~

 

When Stiles had ordered him, a few minutes to midnight, to wait on the second story balcony, Derek had not questioned him. The werewolf had assumed, that Stiles wanted to talk business with someone out of earshot, but he was overwhelmed when he saw his sister Laura, standing at the railing, starring down at the colourful decoration and the glittering guests with a half-empty flute of champagne in her hand.

 

Derek had barely dared to approach her. Hesitantly he had claimed a place at the railing as well, gazing down, searching for Stiles. He spotted him chatting amicably with the director of the Beacon Hills hospital, Allison on the man's arm, nodding enthusiastically. The teenager did not even realize that he was under scrutiny. Isaac however had. The boy looked up at him smiling encouragingly, gesturing at Derek's sister.

 

Not hesitating, because he didn't know how much time he had, Derek had stepped back and pulled Laura with him, enveloping her in a tight hug.

 

Sniffing slightly, when they pulled apart, Laura looked at him. "You look handsome, Derek. Has anything happened? Has he …"

 

The younger werewolf knew very well what his sister tried to avoid spelling out. He was even gladder that he could ease her, without having to lie. He had never been good at that. "Nothing has happened Laura. Stiles has not even touched me."

 

When Laura frowned, Derek remembered something, "Well, he had, but only to patch me up after me getting shot. Seems he is not that popular in certain circles."

 

Accepting this explanation, Laura's gaze fell to his neck. Though he was wearing both a dress-shirt and a tie, Derek was well aware what his sister was looking at. He really wanted to comfort her, when she asked quietly, "How much does it hurt? I could … I could nearly feel your pain when he closed it around your neck. Honestly, I am surprised that you are allowed to come up here. Tell me, Derek, honestly, how bad is it really?"

 

And right there, on the evening of his second day with the Stilinski crime family, Derek had to make a decision. To be honest with his sister, or to protect the image of the person who had bought him under less than favourable circumstances.

 

He could tell Laura about the circumstances of the fight where he had been shot. Could reveal that they had been at Deaton's clinic, where Stiles had exhausted himself far beyond what was reasonable, to create a new collar that would not hurt Derek, would not force his will on him.

 

He could share with her how the kids had treated him ever since he had entered their home. How they tried to comfort him at every turn. How they had even made a bed for him instead of having him sleeping on the couch or the floor.

 

How Stiles had given him access to his comics. Laura would know how much that meant to him, because she knew how much her brother loved these stories.

 

She would feel so much better. Would not have to constantly worry about him. Would know that he was treated decently and be at ease.

 

But then Derek remembered all the stories he had been told about the Stilinski family. How ruthless Claudia had been and how cold-blooded John. How they were said to have trained Stiles to follow in their footsteps from a very young age. How Stiles was said to be a perfect shot because his dad had not allowed him any leniency at the shooting range and would not let him leave until he got ten out of ten, dead centre. How the teenager was known to defend his territory cold bloodedly. How he literally tore apart his competition, willing to bath his hands in blood if it suited his purpose.

 

Derek conjured the memories of last night, when Stiles had cut open this guy's face. How he had been dragged away by his best friend afterwards, returning late at night smelling of alcohol and sadness. He recalled this afternoon, where Stiles had embedded his blade in a petty thieves hand, who had dared to threaten someone under his protection.

 

In the end, it was not really a decision after all. He knew where he belonged, who deserved his loyalty and it was far easier than he could have ever imagined.

 

So Derek shook his head, and pulled his sister close to kiss her forehead, whispering softly. "It's bearable. Don't worry about it."

 

~ * ~


	8. Free Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Business outside of mob-business. This is what happens when you invite the Stilinski family to a fundraiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad. Please be kind.

 

The fundraiser went on and on. People got more and more drunk; offered more and more money whenever they were asked. Once he started paying attention to it, Derek realized that Stiles always held a glass of prickling champagne. But the werewolf rarely saw him drinking from it.

 

Around two Stiles and Lydia had a brief conversation where Stiles only asked, "How much?"

 

The stunning redhead made a small gesture with her hand and Stiles went to write a check to the board for one-hundred-and-twenty-thousand dollars. The campaign manager nearly fell over himself with gratitude, but when Derek's mother Talia appeared at Stiles side, peeking over his shoulder, the Alpha merely smiled.

 

"Always the same amount, every year with a constant increase of three percent to compensate for inflation."

 

With a bedazzling smile, Stiles allowed the man in front of him to take his check away, turning towards Talia Hale explaining jovially, "Well, the children are our future. Good investment always pays off." While looking over his shoulder towards Derek, clearly making his comment equivocate.

 

Not liking the implication one bit, despite being the one who had offered her son in the first place, the female Alpha growled under her breath, making both Isaac and Derek step closer to Stiles. Derek was well aware that the blond human wouldn't have the slightest chance of defending his boss against an angry werewolf. Not even Derek would have a great chance of winning against his own mother. Thankfully Laura approached them, defusing the situation by directing Talia's attention elsewhere.

 

Gratefully Derek nodded towards his sister, who shot him a tiny smile, before following Stiles to the rest-rooms. This has happened twice so far but until now, Isaac had only checked the stalls and they have waited outside. According to his subtle gesture Stiles obviously expected them to follow him this time. Not liking where this was going, Derek still obeyed, turning around as soon as the door was closed. He didn't expect a gentle hand on his arm as soon as they were alone.

 

"Derek, are you alright?" Stiles tone was laced with worry, when he looked at the werewolf.

 

Enjoying the attention but not really knowing what was going on, Derek forced himself to take a deep breath and nodded. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Dealing with his Derek's worries, surely was not something Stiles enjoyed. Especially not when he had better things to do such as mingling with the rich and important people outside. Still, the human didn't step back, but instead brushed over Derek's arm until he reached the werewolf's hand, lacing their fingers together, slowly raising them to show them to the werewolf.

 

"Because your claws are out."

 

Pulling back his hand, Derek held both of them close to his chest, closing his eyes, taking even breaths to calm himself. He had not even realized how very tightly wound he had been until now. It was as if the interference of his mother had pushed him too far. Dropping his head, he muttered, "You should not antagonize my mother. Not even I can make sure that you emerge from a dispute with her unharmed."

 

"Hey," Stiles smiled, apparently amused by Derek's worries. Tenderly he placed his hands over Derek's claws, apparently not worrying in the slightest to be injured, when he assured the werewolf, "That's what Isaac is for. He's not only my enforcer, he has been my bodyguard ever since my dad died and he is very, very good at what he does. Don't worry Derek, this was a calculated risk."

 

Revelling in the warmth of the kind touch, grounding himself in Stiles's smell and the feeling of his skin, Derek managed to put away his claws and looked up. He gazed slightly apologetic to Isaac when he shook his head, "Sorry to say that, but that's bullshit! What could a lanky human like him do against an Alpha werewolf? No offence, Isaac."

 

The tall boy snickered and raised his hands, "Non, taken," before looking at Stiles, apparently waiting for something.

 

When the boy rolled his eyes and nodded, Isaac took out his gun and removed the clip. He then pulled out a few bullets and showed them to Derek.

 

Looking at the highly polished ammunition in confusion, he picked one up, realizing that it was engraved with a stylised lily.

 

Calmly, Isaac asked, "Do you really think that I would let my boss walk into a situation I can't protect him from? A normal human would suffer and possibly die when I hit him with one of these. And a werewolf …"

 

"… as well." Derek finally comprehended. "That's the Argent's logo, Chris Argent gave them to you. These are wolfsbane bullets."

 

"A special brand" Stiles told him, washing his hands. "None but the Argents and us know about it."

 

Looking at these boys, understanding dawned in Derek. "Chris Argent wouldn't have had time to make bullets for a weapon like yours within two days. He shoots bigger calibres. You have been working with him before you … Oh my god, you knew, even before you saw me shifting you knew about werewolves!"

 

Throwing away the paper towel, straightening his lapels, Stiles didn't even look at Derek when he answered, "This is my home, my town, my land." Turning around he looked into Derek's eyes and nothing spoke of the lanky teenager who had stumbled over him this morning. Stiles was calm and dead centred when he assured the werewolf, "There is nothing going on here, I don't know about."

 

And for a single moment, Derek was nearly inclined to believe him.

 

~ * ~

 

When they pooled into the limousine around half past three, the driver asked, "Breakfast, Mr. Stilinski?"

 

Grinning Stiles answering him, "You know me so well, James."

 

"It's Jasper, Mr. Stilinski."

 

"You are the driver, therefore your name is James. Now hurry, I can practically hear these pancakes chanting my name."

 

They all sat in silence, tired after the long night. After about ten minutes Stiles traded places with Boyd, so he was sitting closer to the driver. "By the way, did you give Marie the Spiderman-comic I have found for her?"

 

Beaming, apparently the man saw no fault in Stiles changing his name on purpose, he answered, "Yes, she needed but two hours to read it, with barely any help from her mother and me. She is currently preparing a book-report on it."

 

"A book report on a comic," Isaac asked, "Is that even allowed?"

 

"Well," the driver explained, "The requirement of her teacher was, that the book has to have at least thirty pages and has to be bound properly, so that the children wouldn't use magazines. Marie argued that her comic book was all properly bound, had about fifty pages and nowhere on the requirement list was written that the book in question was not allowed to have pictures."

 

Clearly amused by that argument, Stiles laughed out loud, a sound that seemed to fill the entire car, making all of his friends smile as well. Derek had to admit that his amusement was catching. "This girl will do amazing things one day, mark my words, Jasper. Your daughter in one in a million."

 

"I know, Mr. Stilinski." The man smiled affectionately, "I know."

 

~ * ~

 

When they arrived at the diner not five minutes later, Stiles nudged the man. "Come on 'James', I will buy you breakfast after you have waited for us so patiently all night."

 

"It's Jasper, Mr. Stilinski."

 

At the diner they obviously were expected, because they were invited to the back-room, where thermos with hot coffee and tea were already waiting for them. When Boyd saw Derek's confused look when Aiden nearly moaned at the taste of a fresh cup, he clapped the werewolf on the back – with surprising force in fact – and revealed, "All decaf." Before choosing a seat, pulling Erica into his lap who promptly lost Melissa's stole.

 

During breakfast the teens shared the latest gossip, and Stiles grilled them mercilessly, except when food was served. He didn't seem to mind the driver, who sat two seats down from him hearing every word that was said. It was even more surprising for Derek, when said driver all of a sudden entered the conversation, explaining about the latest affair they suspected the majors wife to entertain; intel he had gathered from one of the other drivers.

 

It was Lydia, as always reading Derek's puzzled expression, who explained to him that Jasper Thompson had been hired as Claudia Stilinski's driver more than twenty years ago. He had been fresh out of High School with nothing to his name but a driver's licence and the death certificate of his recently deceased mother. Claudia had gotten him a job at the only rent-car company in the area and had always, specifically requested his services when she had hired a car.

 

He had been the one to pick her and Stiles up from the hospital, when John had been out of town a week after Stiles birth and Stiles, at the age of two, had come up with the name of 'James' because the little boy had been convinced that that was the proper, and _only_ name, suitable for a limousine chauffeur. Jasper had become a valued source of information for the Stilinski family, and they had always made it worth his effort. First Claudia, then John and now Stiles who cared not only for the man but also his family.

 

~ * ~

 

Once home, Isaac, Boyd and Scott checked all windows and the security system, before they all fell into their respective beds.

 

Watching the sun go up, Derek lay in his bed for more than an hour, unable to find any sleep. After dozing off for a little while, when he opened his eyes again, he saw the light spilling into his room, painting pictures on the carpet and he realized he had shifted again and that his wolf insisted that this was _not_ the proper place to sleep urging him to change that.

 

Hesitantly, clinging to both Stiles and Scott's words he nudged open the door between his and Stiles room, entering quietly. As Scott had prophesized, Stiles really was a light sleeper, because he blearily opened his eyes when he heard the silent paws, stumbling out of bed, into the bathroom. When he returned, he covered a part of the bed with a huge towel, face-planting half on top of it, mumbling unintelligibly, "N' shedding 'n bed."

 

Derek paused for a moment, watching the towel and the boy whose breath was evening out again and was at loss of what to do for a moment. A few minutes of tense anticipation later, Stiles was petting the towel invitingly, telling Derek, "Don' make me drag y' up. Lie down or go, I wanna sleep an' your' hovering."

 

After a heartbeat, Derek carefully stepped onto the bed, looking for a place between Stiles star-fished form that stretched over nearly the entire bed, and the wall where the towel covered a good part of the mattress. After a few moments of pondering, he realized, that he had to snuggle between the teenager and the wall. When he finally curled up, touching Stiles as little as possible, so that he would not be a nuisance by tickling him, risking to be thrown out again, the teenager repositioned his arm, placing it under Derek's neck so that the wolf could feel the warmth of the human seep into him.

 

For a few moments Derek barely moved. Though his wolf was absolutely comfortable, the implications of lying in bed with the human who owned him, who was his substitute Alpha for the time being, unleashed something inside of him. Ever since his messing up with Kate Argent, practically hand-wrapping a part of his family-business for her taking, everybody had been hesitant around him. He had proven his bad judgement, had cost his family money, resources and worst of all lives. There had been no comforting hugs or napping with the others ever since.

 

Yet this human was sleeping soundly beside him, shifting to accompany him in his bed, as if Derek was someone to be trusted. And how very much he wanted this, wanted to be trusted, needed the chance to proof himself to this new pack … family, he corrected himself. He did not even realize how much he had started to shiver from distress, until Stiles wrapped his arms around him from behind, slowly petting his fur.

 

"I's alright," the boy was breathing into his ear. "Nothin' 'll happen, promise. Your' safe."

 

Derek wanted to explain. To explain that he knew that he was safe, but that that was not even important. That the fact that he was trusted, was what was tilting his world off its axes. Simply because he had not been trusted by the people he cared the most about, for the last few years. But he couldn't, wouldn't change now in favour of an explanation. Because as a wolf he could convince himself that he was nothing but a pet, someone who could seek comfort from his owner. As a human he … could not. So he tried to breath evenly, to calm himself and before he knew, he had fallen asleep in Stiles arms.

 

~ * ~

 

When Stiles woke the next morning, Derek was still curled up on the towel. This werewolf really was something. Lydia, Danny, Scott, everybody had dipped into his or her resources to gather information on the guy. About Derek's past, about Talia's plans for his future. What they had come up with was truly frightening.

 

Picking up his workout clothes, Stiles left his bedroom and went to the gym that covered a good part of the spacious cellar, nodding tiredly to Boyd who was already working the treadmill, sipping the smoothie he had taken from the fridge.

 

For a few minutes, the boys worked out in silence, Isaac, Scott and finally Allison joining them after a while. A good hour into their training, Boyd stated, "You have wolf-pelt in your hair."

 

"Yea, Derek was … anxious last night." Stiles admitted. Not wanting to reveal the agitation of the newest member of their pack, though he knew that three quarters of the people in this room could smell it easily.

 

Scott was looking up from his bike where he seemed determined to break the record of the latest Tour de France winner. "Well, who wouldn't be if sold as a pet?"

 

Sighing slightly, exchanging his own bike for a cross-trainer, Stiles mused, "I think it's more than that. Did you notice how he reacted to your mother's hug yesterday? He always pulls back, but he seems to be needing the contact. Last night, when he came into my bed he was all but shivering when I first touched him. He only calmed when I held him close."

 

"Werewolves are tactile creatures. They need to confirm their place in the pack through smell and touch. You of all people should now that." Allison injected from where she was stretching on one of the yoga mats, going through a series of moves for her combat training.

 

"It's more than that." Isaac said, looking up from the punching bag he was currently tormenting.

 

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, slowing slightly.

 

Shaking his head, Isaac stretched his back, looking at his Alpha. "Did you watch him with his sister and his mother yesterday? I did, yesterday and the day I picked him up from the Hale Manor. His family … they are distant. I didn't smell rejection but this place felt … I don't know, it felt hard, ruthless. A little like Stiles smells when he is working. But Stiles has this compassionate undertone, even when he punishes someone. Such a scent was completely missing there."

 

After two more hits, where Isaac seemed to be at loss of how to improve his aim, Boyd approached him, wrapping around him from behind, guiding his hits bodily, so that the boy would cause more destruction with one blow. "Turn into the blow, we are strong, but if you twist with the motion, you can cause even greater damage." The teenager advised Isaac quietly.

 

Proving once again, his uncanny ability to watch and listen, the dark-skinned boy drew the only logical conclusion from Isaac's words and shared his thoughts. "Derek has not felt love and affection in a very long time, most likely since the incident with Kate. So his wolf is starved for it and it seems that he pushes to the surface because the human doesn't know how to ask for it, might even think that he does not deserve the comfort."

 

Pondering in silence for a few minutes, continuing their workout, Allison asked hesitant after a little while. "What happened with Kate? Dad never told me, said it was a part of our family history he didn’t want to burden me with."

 

Hesitant, Stiles stepped from the cross-trainer and approached the girl who sat in a perfect split on the floor. Mirroring her attempts at stretching, though far less successfully, he exhaled quietly, "I don't know exactly. I just overheard my dad talking to Chris one evening a few years ago. I was supposed to be in bed, but … anyway."

 

Forcing himself to concentrate, Stiles tried to remember. "Apparently Chris sister has posed as Derek's mistress to get close to his family. He had revealed trade secrets, shared with her times and dates of shipments. She started to sabotage the Hales, tried to manipulate them out of their leading position. Sadly she was successful because Derek was nothing more than a teenager at the time, unaware of how much damage he was causing by giving away the most important resource in our business: information.

 

"Kate prepared a major hit on the Hale-family. Luckily a part of them were not even at home when she stroke. Another operation going wrong required the Alpha and her inner circle to deal with it. Had the Hales been home, as Derek had thought, he would either be dead now or an orphan. When it came to light who had revealed their secrets … even the most important one … Derek was sent to New York to finish High School there. I think his mother tried to protect him, you know, by getting him out of harm's way, but … well … if you did something wrong and were sent away, what would you think?"

 

Pulling Allison into his arms when tears started to stream down her cheeks, Stiles made room for Scott and Isaac. The boys wrapped themselves around their girl from behind. Even Boyd joined them, taking a place behind Stiles on the mat, offering his quiet support.

 

~ * ~

 

For the longest time nobody was talking. Allison's family had done unspeakable things. Her aunt Kate had nearly destroyed the Hale family, killed several members of it simply because they were werewolves and she was power-hungry.

 

Her mother had tried to kill Scott when she found out that he had been bitten, something Allison had had a hard time forgiving her. Victoria had been bitten by a rogue werewolf, most likely the same who had turned all of them, and had taken her life as was the code of the hunters.

 

Her grandfather Gerard, who had been so impressed with John's bloody revenge when going after the murderers of his wife that he had supported his position in the trade. Still he had beaten up Stiles and tried to kill all of the other wolves of this pack, once he discovered them. John had executed him, after finding out about his attempts on the teenagers' lives.

 

Chris Argent was the only one left and, as it was accustomed in their business, the son had to pay for the sins of the father. John Stilinski had allowed him to live, but only under the premise that Chris Argent would be at his beck and call. But unconfined loyalty to the Stilinski family had been impossible for the hunter. When Chris Argent revealed his family's true purpose, the hunting of rabid werewolves, holding the supernatural at bay to protect humans, John had relented. He had understood the noble cause Chris had devoted his life to, but had also realized the futility of it since Chris Argent since he was the last one standing.

 

Unable to betray the last cause his family had fought for, for centuries, Chris had only looked for an out for his daughter. To keep her save and out of the family business, had offered her to John in his place. Allison had been half way through her training at that point. She had detested her father for sending her away. Still, she had known about the power of the Stilinski family, so she had relented. She was trained to stand at Stiles side at all times, to protect him when John could not be there, and in return the 'Sheriff' would keep her safe. Allison had even been allowed to finish her training and exercising with Stiles, she had learned a lot more than her father could have ever taught her.

 

When John had died, Stiles had offered Allison an out. But she had become a member of this family, despite being born into another, so she had declined and until this day, had never regretted it.

 

~ * ~

 


	9. Occupational Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weekend with a bunch of teenagers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetad

 

When Derek woke, he was alone. With a flash of embarrassment, he shifted back, took a shower and went to look for his new clothes. He found them in a closet next to Stiles's bedroom and was overwhelmed by the amount of shirts, trousers and dress-shirts Lydia had bought for him. Even a black leather-jacket was displayed on the only shelf.

 

Touching the high quality material reverently, he couldn't supress the giddiness of owning such a valuable wardrobe once again. Well, technically Stiles owned it but since everything had been bought specifically for Derek, the werewolf was determined to enjoy them.

 

Picking a new pair of briefs and stone-washed jeans with a black t-shirt he nearly jumped when he heard Erica's purring voice from behind. "And good morning to you too, gorgeous. No wonder Stiles keeps you locked up, you look good enough to eat. Seeing you first thing in the morning must be a beautiful way to start a day."

 

When Derek looked at her, slightly hesitant, she only gestured for him to continue dressing. "Please, don't stop on my account. I'm just admiring the view."

 

Swallowing thickly, Derek finished buttoning up his jeans and putting on the shirt, before he turned towards Erica. The teenage 'sex-worker' wore leggings and a slashed up t-shirt where her bra peeked through. She didn't wear any make-up and her hair was twisted into two loose pig-tails. Nothing compared her to the powerful vixen she had presented as, yesterday.

 

She too was barefoot and her movements looked catlike when she approached him and purred seductively. "All the others are working out at the moment. I get enough of that during work-hours, so that gives the two of us at least an hour to get to know each other, before they will swarm the ground floor again. Any ideas what we could do?"

 

He didn't know. Derek really didn't know how to answer that question. On the one hand he had been given specifically to Stiles, he even wore his collar. But on the other hand, Erica was a member of this family. It wouldn't to do refuse her. So he spoke uncertainly, "Whatever … whatever you want to do, Erica." Looking at the floor, instinctively presenting his unprotected neck, supressing a tremor that ran through his body.

 

He had expected the girl to touch him, but not in the gentle way she did. Warmly she caressed his neck, rubbing over his tense muscles. "Wow, you really are expecting the worst from any of us."

 

"I'm sorry." Derek pulled back immediately. "I didn't mean to imply …"

 

It seemed that even here, Derek was not able to do anything right. But to be fair, nobody had told him what was expected of him in the first place. He had to adapt so fast to any given situation that he was afraid to develop a whiplash.

 

He barely looked up when Erica nudged him, trying to capture his gaze. "Derek, look at me please."

 

When he did so, the teenager rose to the tips of her feet and oh so sweetly brushed over his forehead with her soft lips. Her words were as sweet as the gesture when she assured him, "This is the most intimate act any of us will ever commit, without your explicit consent. The world we are living in, is not a very nice place. But this house is. Everybody who lives here is safe. No one will come on to you without you wanting him to. No one will take liberties you are not offering. No matter how or why you came here, with us, you are safe."

 

Pulling back her hands, she looked up at the dark-haired man, assuring him once again, "I know that you have no reason to believe us. The way you joined this household was as bad as mine or Isaacs, but at least in here, we are the good guys. We support each other and don't demand things that are not offered in the first place. And now you will help me with breakfast."

 

Mirroring her smile timidly, Derek tried to feel assured. She was not Stiles, but she had lived here much longer than him and maybe she was right. If so, Derek's future looked far less bleak than he had anticipated.

 

~ * ~

 

Erica, as it turned out, was a horrible cook and after burning the first patch of pancakes, Derek gently nudged her away from the stove. He didn't even realize that he started ordering her around, to bring him chocolate chips, fresh fruits, to help him cut them. To gather yoghurt and slice up oranges for him to juice.

 

But the teenage girl didn't stop smiling and complied with every order. When the table was set and a swarm of hungry teenagers was barging in, she couldn't help but adore Derek's darkening cheeks when she revealed, that the newest member of their household had prepared breakfast for all of them. Stiles' happy moan when he tasted the chocolate-chip pancakes only served to increase Derek's embarrassment. But his wolf gloated at the compliments that were offered, so he sat quietly and enjoyed the meal.

 

After breakfast, everybody helped with the clean-up and Derek was currently stuffing a kitchen-bag into the rubbish bin outside, when he heard someone growl behind him. Whipping around, he recognized Aiden before the guy punched him in the face, tackling to the ground, twisting back his arm painfully with surprising strength.

 

The boy's voice was vicious when he demanded, "Who are you, and what are you doing with our bins?"

 

"I just … threw away the garbage. Please, Aiden … I, …"

 

But before Derek could think of a possible explanation why Lydia's boyfriend was acting so hostile all of a sudden, he saw the kitchen-door opening with Stiles and Aiden(?) … looking at them.

 

The mob-boss relaxed against the door, folding his arms over his chest, grinning. "Shouldn't you be in San Jose until next week?"

 

"Yes," the boy hissed from between clenched teeth, "But it was a good thing I came early, because I saw this tramp rummaging through our garbage. Who knows what he might have hidden there? We really need better security, I told you so repeatedly, Stiles!"

 

Now it was Aiden's … the other Aiden's turn to snicker. "Are you really sure that this is a tramp unrelated to us, brother? Take a good whiff and try again."

 

The pain in Derek's arm lessened a little, when the copy of Aiden leaned down, burying his nose in Derek's hair, inhaling deeply. Thunderstruck he let go and took a step back. "He's … he's one of ours?" Confused he looked from Derek to Aiden to Stiles and back to Derek again.

 

Stiles offered his hand to Derek checking for injuries, when the two boys embraced. "Derek, may I introduce to you the second half of our terror-duo. This is Ethan, Aiden's twin brother."

 

Derek was surprised when the boy approached him again. Now that he could look at his face, he realized the disparities between the two of them. Though similar in height and appearance they were far from identical. Still the man was unsure of how to react when the boy held out his hand to him, "Man, I didn't know. I was out of sorts for the last ten days, so Erica had no chance of bringing me up to speed on the latest gossip. But I am honestly sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

 

"Thank …" Derek hesitated for a second before taking the teenager's hand. "Thank you. No harm done, don't worry."

 

When he entered the house, he saw Stiles hitting the teenager over the head, shaking his head at him and Ethan at least had the grace to look sheepish.

 

~ * ~

 

When they entered, the newcomer was welcome like a lost son. Everyone seemed overjoyed to have him back and he was hugged by every member of the household at least once before Erica and Allison dragged him upstairs, chatting him up.

 

Lydia held Derek back when he too tried to go upstairs, gesturing towards the personal computer who stood in one of the corners of the living room. "It is time that you start earning your keep. I talked to your mother yesterday, and she told me that you managed the entire branch of the Hale-Family business in New York. You collected the fees and worked the money. She said you are rather good with numbers."

 

Slightly uncomfortable at the thought of Lydia and his mother talking, Derek nodded. Numbers had always been easy for him, easy to remember and easy to work with. They either added up or they didn't. There was no in-between, one right path led to the right sum, and he had dedicated his entire adult life to find that path for his family. So he had immersed himself in his family's books and had done his best to keep the business as successful as possible, by cutting out useless ballast; improving their income as much as possible.

 

When Lydia booted up the computer, she opened a guest account for him, explaining absent minded. "When Danny returns he will create an account for you. Until then you have to work with what I give you." Copying a folder for Derek, she opened it, revealing numerous documents. "This is the company profile, the most important customers and the books of the Red Hood Trading Company. Familiarize yourself with it. It will be good to have another accountant-wizard at our disposal."

 

Derek furrowed his eyebrows when looking up. "You want me to go over the books of the Stilinski's Trading Company?"

 

"And the roster of clients and the company profile." Lydia nodded. "No offense Derek, but the positon of the gloomy body-guard is already taken. And though Stiles will rely on you for public appearances and when he is working under the radar, we will have to find a way to occupy you during the day. Otherwise this mobster-business is terribly dull."

 

"And you want to groom me into his accountant?" Derek repeated.

 

Shrugging, Lydia looked at him. "That's what you mother said that you are good at. Don't you like it?"

 

"No … I mean yes … I mean I want to do it. But books … they can tell you a lot about the way an enterprise is managed. Are you sure you trust me with them?"

 

Smiling sharply, Lydia leaned over his shoulder, opening the first document, whispering into his ear, "These are only the official books. You will have to work your way up from here, sweetheart."

 

~ * ~

 

Half an hour later, Stiles barged into the living room, munching on an apple. Looking over Derek's shoulder, he asked loudly, somewhat accusingly, "You are making him go over our books? On a Sunday? Seriously, don't you have any mercy woman?"

 

Pleased that Stiles was offended on his behalf, Derek still hastened to ease him. "I don't mind. Really. I'm good with numbers. And yours are interesting."

 

"My numbers are not the only interesting thing about me, wolf boy." Stiles, teased, before vanishing into his study again, this time keeping the door open.

 

Swallowing around his dry throat, Derek turned back to the screen. He really didn't know if he should feel unsettled or pleased by Stiles easy teasing. He had to admit to himself that he liked the way the teenager behaved around him, but at the same time he felt a little rejected, since Stiles used many names on him, all of them nice endearments, but for now, he had refused to address Derek by his given name. Forcing himself to concentrate on his work, he pushed all thoughts of the teenager aside, marvelling at the skill of the accountant who had been in charge of these books so far.

 

Sometimes during the afternoon a pot of tea appeared by his side and every now and then he enjoyed a cup. It was already dark outside when the living room filled slowly. As always when discussing something of no importance all teenagers were talking at the same time. Tonight they were arguing about food.

 

In the end Melissa, who had returned from the hospital only recently, made a decision, "If the person choosing dinner should be the one who had not done so for the longest time, it should be Derek, since he had not ordered a single meal in this house."

 

Derek felt considerably unsettled when simultaneously, all heads turned towards him and Lydia smiled sweetly. "Alright Derek, what do you want for dinner?"

 

After a few minutes, it became clear that Mrs. McCall's word was more or less law within these walls and Derek was given a wide variety of flyers to choose from. There was of course pizza, and Thai, burgers and Chinese. There was even an advertisement for a salad-bar in town who, as he was assured, was happy to deliver to Stiles' address. At the bottom of the stack he found a dog-eared and worn flyer from an Indian restaurant.

 

Memories assaulted Derek when he looked at it. He and Laura had loved this little Indian place in New York. It was a restaurant where you actually sat on the floor, with soft music in the background and candles as the only source of light. His sister and he had gone there once a month, always on a different day of course, but they had sat on the cushioned floors for hours, talking about everything and nothing, enjoying the spicy dishes, savouring the exotic smells and the sweet drinks.

 

"What about … what about this one?" Derek held up the flyer, only to see Scott reaching for it instantly. "I don't think that's …"

 

"No," Stiles interrupted his best friend softly. "It's alright, Scott. I think it's a great idea. Let's order some Indian and I will pick up a few movies."

 

They all watched Stiles leaving for the first floor. Derek felt the heavy silence setting over the group, fidgeting in his seat. Miserably he apologized, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to … We can order pizza …"

 

After a few moments, where the teenagers had looked first at each other and then at Scott, the boy pulled the flyer from his hand and opened it, gesturing towards a meal that was marked with crude drawn star. "Order that one for Stiles. It's alright, don't worry."

 

~ * ~

 

Dinner arrived not an hour later. Cooking a dozen meals, and no less had been ordered, took some time and in the meantime the teenagers had shown Derek their little cinema. Opposite of the indoor-gym was a heavy door that led to a room that's floor was covered in pallets and big pillows with several, colourful cushions thrown on top. Holders for soda-cans or bottles lined the construction and at the side there was a fridge and a cupboard full of snacks.

 

With a few clicks, Isaac brought a beamer system online that was connected to a blue-ray player as well as a computer-system. Scott opened a few small cupboards at the bottom of the wall where the picture was projected to; revealing security cameras from all over the compound.

 

This room, as was explained to Derek, was sound proof to maximise the cinematic feeling. But since nobody wanted to forego security, they had installed cameras and checked them regularly.

 

Together they watched several trailers and after a little while Derek finally noticed the irregular construction he was sitting on. "Shouldn't there be another step at the bottom. This looks quite a harsh curb."

 

Grinning, Scott emptied his can, throwing it into the wastepaper-basket right beside the door with perfect accuracy. "Where do you think your bed came from?"

 

"Shouldn't we fetch it? So that there is room for everybody?" True the generous construction offered a lot of legroom, but all of a sudden, Derek had a really bad feeling for taking away something that made the free-time of these kids more comfortable.

 

Shrugging, Allison, dismissed the offer, "The lowest step is almost always occupied by Danny and Ethan. So we won't need it since Danny is not even here. We will just snuggle together."

 

"Who's snuggling?" Stiles asked when entering, hands full of paper bags of take-away and three movies sticking out of the pockets of his hoodie.

 

While the others rose to help the boy, Scott crawled back, leaning comfortably against the wall, inviting Stiles. "We're bro. Come on, let's start our movie marathon."

 

Though he enjoyed the meal, Derek found that he had a particular dislike for the chosen movies. The music was too shrill and the pictures too colourful. It got better when Isaac changed the settings and Lydia adjusted the sound system. After that, everything became more bearable and Derek could actually follow the plot.

 

Still, all through the first movie he was aware of Stiles snuggling into Scott's embrace, holding on to the arms of his friend as if they were a lifeline. When the sparse leftovers of the meals were put into the fridge, ice-cream was offered, before the second movie started. All teenagers lay huddled in each other's arms. Stiles in Scott's embrace. Allison in Isaac's. Lydia was currently allowing Aiden to groom her, something she surely not would have tolerated with the lights on, with Ethan lying curled up beside her, head in her lap. Erica and Boyd lay on the next step and when returning with a cup of stracciatella ice-cream, the girl pulled Derek up from the floor where he had made himself comfortable on one of the big cushions, so that he sat with his back against her legs.

 

Distracted by the movie half way through her cup of ice cream, Boyd managed to snatch it from her, and after a few bites offered it to Derek. Ever since Erica had pulled him up, the werewolf had been tense, waiting for the dark-skinned boy to admonish him for being so close to his girlfriend. But Boyd didn't seem to have a problem, he even altered from grooming Erica's unkempt hair and placing his hand on Derek's thigh. It was as if he didn't even think about the comfort he was offering, and from what Derek knew, most likely he didn't.

 

~ * ~

 

It was after midnight when the last film ended and everything was put in order again, the teenagers retreating to their bedrooms. Folding his clothes carefully, putting them on the window-sill, Derek looked at the pair of silk-pyjama's Lydia had added to his wardrobe. Derek was determined not to shift tonight, so he put on the pants and left for the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he returned to Stiles bedroom, finding both Stiles and Scott on the teenager's bed.

 

Stiles voice cut through the darkness when he said softly, "Thank you, for choosing Indian tonight, Derek. I really enjoyed it."

 

Despite the faint sadness coming off of Stiles all evening, and Scott being in his bed, apparently offering comfort, Derek could not hear a lie in Stiles words, so he nodded, whispering quietly, "You are welcome." Because honestly, what else could he say …

 

~ * ~

 


	10. Days at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens if you leave a new guest home alone? Cue: he tries to make himself useful. Not with the best outcome after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back from my holiday in Italy. It was ... adventurous. All in all I'm happy to be back and next week my family and I will enjoy five relaxing days in a thermic spring we have visited for years. Until then I hope to impose three new chapters on you, starting with this one. 
> 
> I realized that I was trying to push a lot of story into each chapter, not caring about the effects that would have on my characters. Therefore I will take my time to go over the parts I have already written and try to make them better t. I hope you will like it.   
> For now, enjoy this chapter, I plan to update for the next two days before I'm off again.

 

The next day was the first weekday Derek spent in the Stilinski household. Breakfasts during the weekend has been languid and opulent. But on Monday, half the pack … half of the members of this patchwork-family, Derek corrected himself mentally, entered the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee and a bagel or muffin or, in Stiles case, two pop tarts and wolfed them down while standing.

 

Despite their different temperament, Ethan and Aiden seemed interchangeable in the morning. One prepared two bagels, the other a huge cup of coffee. The meal was put down after the first bite, the cup was exchanged. Since they wore absolutely identical outfits Derek soon got dizzy following them with his eyes.

 

When Lydia came down, dressed and made up perfectly in a high quality business-attire with a starched blouse and a short skirt it became easier to distinguish Aiden from Ethan. Not only because everybody got out of her way, Stiles included and there was suddenly a lot more room around the counter, but because Aiden looked at her with unrestrained adoration in his eyes.

 

The teenagers did not even sit down during their meal, they shuffled around the counter until all coffee was consumed and everybody had put away his dishes again. Once again, Derek wondered how these people were so inexplicably tidy all the time. It didn't fit the picture of the average, American teenager, but on the other hand, nothing about these teenagers was typical.

 

After that they left in pairs, Stiles and Isaac. Scott had his arm around Ethan's shoulder when they walked out of the door, chatting about someone a talk to, was long since overdue. Lydia and Allison picked up their briefcases and left as well, leaving Aiden, Boyd and Erica for last. The three of them lingered a little longer, splayed out on the couch until Mrs. McCall came down in a pair of scrubs. Aiden then picked up his keys and opened the door for her.

 

Hesitantly Derek turned around from the documents he had been given to study, and looked at Erica and Boyd who lounged on the couch in the living-room zapping through the channels. Hesitantly he started, "About yesterday … I … I was wondering if … well, Scott seemed to think that Indian wasn't a good idea. Doesn't Stiles like it? Because I could have chosen something else …"

 

Smiling sadly, Erica shook her head. "No, in fact, Stiles loves Indian food. When I picked the flyer for the first time after moving in they wouldn't let me go through with ordering something. Scott told me that Indian had always been the favourite food of Stiles mother."

 

With a crooked smile, Boyd picked up where his girlfriend had left, since Erica seemed a little lost in the memories of her coming into the house. "The Sheriff couldn't stomach the smell, so whenever he was out of town, Mrs. Stilinski and Stiles gorged themselves on Palak paneer with Naan, Tandoori chicken with rice and Sandesh. Stiles loves these little balls made of cottage cheese, cardamon and saffron."

 

Rubbing her forehead against Boyd's arm, Erica sighed quietly. "Scott told me, that Stiles only ever ordered Indian food on the anniversary of his mother's death and he didn't this year because his father had been killed a month prior. He likes the food, really Derek, so don't worry about it. It just brought back memories that are hard for him to deal with. Especially now that he is the last living Stilinski in America."

 

Thankful for the explanation, Derek nodded and turned back towards the computer. The words were dancing before his eyes. How would his life be, if Kate's attack had not only killed his extended family but his parents and sisters as well? Would he have been able to cope? He had not thought himself good company after Kate, but still he had known that his parents to live in Beacon Hills. How would he feel if the attack had left him orphaned? To lose ones family had to be the worst fate possible and for quite some time, Derek wondered how Stiles was able to keep not only his extended family, but himself together.

 

After Boyd and Erica left around ten, he had the house to himself without any kind of supervision. Derek wondered what he should do, but soon decided to prepare another pot of coffee, before returning to the files. Rummaging through the fridge around noon, heating up some leftovers, Derek shot up from his chair, when a little lady with curly hair entered the house. Though she noticed him she apparently saw no reason to interact with him, exceeding her initial nod.

 

Ten minutes later, Derek realized what she was doing. He had texted Lydia and heard that the woman's name was Renata and that she came around every Monday and Thursday to clean. The text was accompanied by the advice to stay clear of her. Hearing her muttering something about useless teenagers in Spanish, Derek approached her hesitantly, asking her in the same language if he could help her. Clearly she seemed surprised that he spoke Spanish, but she only patted his cheek motherly and told him to get lost because sooner or later he would only getting in her way and honestly, she didn't have all day to clean up after a bunch of rowdy teenagers.

 

Slightly unsure of what to do with himself now, Derek fled through the door beside the kitchen, finding himself in the garage. There was room for several cars, but the one closest to the door was Stiles beat-up Jeep. Derek had always loved cars. They had been the only hobby he had allowed himself in New York. He had paid for a small space in a local garage, bought cars, repaired, tuned and tweaked them and had sold them again afterwards. Seven cars had gone through his hands over the last years. He didn't even think about it, when opening the Jeeps hood, to catch a glimpse.

 

Stiles, didn't seem to have a knack for automobiles, since the Jeep was in a dreadful condition. Before he realized what he was doing, Derek was checking oil, water, the ignition park and the cambelt. Everything was in working order, but it was clear that no professional had looked at this car for quite some time. Picking up a flashlight from the side, Derek kneeled down to look at the undercarriage.

 

It took him about an hour to access all negligence the car had suffered over the last years. When looking around in the generous garage, he realized that every necessary tool was available to take care of that. He would need time to grind off the old and mostly chipped paint. He would need a spray system and the necessary car paint to renew it. Also it would do this car tons of good to replace almost all wearing parts. But Derek was confident that he could do it. He might need some time, since his studies had priority, but in about a week or two this car would be as good as new and Stiles could have fun driving it again.

 

Back at the computer, Derek logged into his private bank-account, ordering parts, excited that he had finally found something to make himself useful. He did not even think that his actions might be unwelcome. Allison had said that Stiles loved his car, surely he would be happy that someone took care of it.

 

~ * ~

 

For five days nobody seemed to care that Derek was home alone. He noticed that Stiles and Isaac always left the house at the same time, apparently caring for the Stilinski family's Red Hood Trade Company. Scott and other members of the family, sometimes even including one of the girls left soon thereafter.

 

They spoke about names and places, but Derek tried very hard not to listen, since he was not sure he was supposed to know these things. Still he realized that, while Isaac was Stiles enforcer and Lydia apparently managing all of Stiles semi-legal activities. Erica and Boyed cared for the sex clubs while Aiden and Ethan worked with the people on the streets. They were under Scott's guidance most of the time because they were a little too prone to violence for every body's taste.

 

Still there was no regular pattern apart from Stiles and Isaac of what they were doing, at least not within the first week. Apart from the Company everybody seemed to be able to deal with every other branch of business and more than once Derek wondered how they kept everything in mind, because apart from short notes in their calendars about official meetings, nothing was ever written down. Though Derek had no access to Stiles computer in the study, not that he had tried. Alright, maybe once, on accident … more or less.

 

Every day after lunch, Derek allowed himself two hours of leniency from his new imposed duties to work on the Jeep. He had unrigged the hood as well as the two front doors and the new paint he had put on them was currently drying in a small concrete part of the backyard that held nothing but a post with a metal ring on top. Derek had used it to strain up a cord between the post and the house, when doing his laundry on Thursday.

 

The engine of the Jeep was currently spread over a part of the garage floor right in front of the car. Derek had taken it apart and had cleaned every single part, replaced the wearing parts and planned to reassemble the engine over the weekend.

 

When nobody was home around six, Derek returned to the garage, working on the car again, passing time. He had the needed parts delivered, since he did not feel like he was allowed to go out on his own. Not only because the collar was meant to subdue him, but because he didn't know what he should do outside. It was not as if he had a real function in this pack … family. Until now he was internalizing data until someone told him what to do with them.

 

The sun had long since gone down, when the garage door opened, Scott and Isaac dragging in a worn looking man. When they realized what Derek was doing, Scott blanched visibly. Cursing under his breath, he dragged the guy, a little more forceful than necessary, through the garage and out the back door.

 

In a barely composed voice, he barked, "Take away the hood, Derek."

 

Swiftly Isaac helped Derek to carry the blue hood back into the garage.

 

Both whipped around, when they heard Stiles entering.

 

"What the hell …" the teenager started, looking lividly at the sight of his beloved Jeep in parts. For the first time Derek realized that maybe he should have asked before disassembling the car. From Stiles point of view he had … well, more or less destroyed it, he could put it back together but he got no chance to explain that. With a vivid look Stiles passed him, exiting to the back garden.

 

Lydia entered the garage from the side of the house, when she took in the picture of the newly painted car and the dismantled engine, she shook her head, but didn't say anything.

 

~ * ~

 

Derek could hear the teenagers outside, but he felt numb, like ice water was flowing through is veins, freezing him from the inside out. From their reaction he had screwed up. Royally! He wanted to go out, to apologize, but when he looked through the door, he realized why the post had really been put up in the first place and it was not for laundry. Their latest 'guest' was tied to it with his hands far above his head shivering from anxiety.

 

Stiles' face was composed when he was shaking his head, speaking softly. "Jimmy, you know that I had doubts about you working for me. But Ethan vouched for you, said you were a clever guy. That you would followed the rules, not cut the profit. All in all the kind of dealer a man in my position is looking for."

 

"But Mr. Stilinski, I am. I didn't. I never cut the product, I am giving you everything I earn, taking only my fair share. You know that! I swear, if money is missing it wasn't me!" The young man was shaking uncontrollably now. It seemed that he did sample his merchandize now and then, and that Stiles had been lenient so far. But apparently he had taken the whole thing a step to far.

 

Disappointed, Stiles approached him. "This is not about the money. Sadly … Taking money I could understand, it would make you greedy and untrustworthy bastard but we could deal with that. One broken arm and everything would be alright. But what you did, that disagrees with the moral backbone I expect from my vendors."

 

"Moral? … But … I don't understand …" the guy whined, pulling desperately at the harsh rope that was used to keep him upright.

 

Circling the guy, twirling his ever present knife between his fingers, Stiles approached Lydia. He kissed her head and put an arm around her from behind. Pointing at her with the tip of the blade, something the redhead did not even seem to register, Stiles explained, "Lydia here is one of my most trusted advisors. Do you want to know what she told me this afternoon? She told me that you have been selling in front of the school."

 

"But that …" the suspended man's voice nearly overturned. "But this area is not covered! I was asking around beforehand, I swear! I was not putting anybody out of business. The area around the school was unclaimed!"

 

Lydia looked at Stiles who was still holding her gently, with a look that seemed to doubt the intelligence of all mankind if this was a representative of their race. Exasperated the redhead imposed, "We do _not_ sell to children!"

 

Finally realizing his mistake, the man started to babble excuses. How he would never do it again. How sorry he was. That he had not known. But from the look on the boy's faces, Derek knew that this would end badly. From what he had seen of the Stilinski family until now, Derek knew that Stiles was dishing out punishment swiftly and harshly for every mistake that was made. So the werewolf was not surprised, when Stiles kissed Lydia's manicured fingers almost reverently, before motioning for her to return back inside.

 

~ * ~

 

All business, Lydia had returned to her phone the moment she had stepped through the door, advising Derek absent minded, "You should not watch. And if you have an mp3-player around here somewhere, better plug it in. You won't like what you are about to hear either," before disappearing into the house, closing the door firmly behind herself.

 

After the first three minutes, Derek wished that he had taken Lydia's advice, because even though the screams from the back-yard were muffled, he could clearly hear the agonizing pain the man was in. When Derek dared to peek around the corner, he saw Isaac covering the man's mouth, while Stiles was inflicting several wounds on the guy, drenching his blade with a harsh smelling chemical between cuts.

 

After half an hour the man was barely able to hold himself up and blood was running down his upper body, drenching his jeans from the numerous wounds he had suffered. His body hitting the floor made Derek flinch, when he was cut loose, even though he tried to concentrate on re-assembling the engine.

 

A car was pulling up in front of the door and hesitantly two guys stepped out of it. Derek hastened to get out of the way, when Isaac and Scott dragged the dealer out, throwing him at the newcomers' feet.

 

"He better stays in the area we are giving him." Scott snapped at them, "Tell him that he has a week to get better and that we expect him next Friday, bright and early."

 

Stiles, slowly entering the garage as well, cleaning his knife with ostentation. The guys wordlessly picked put their friend, nodded frightened into the mobster's direction before driving away with screeching tires.

 

~ * ~

 

"Isaac, clean the backyard." Stiles was speaking softly, fixating Derek with an emotionless stare that frightened the werewolf to the bones.

 

"Yes, Mr. Stilinski." It was rare that the boys addressed Stiles by his surname in the house, but it was clear to everybody, that Stiles was still dressed in his work-persona.

 

"And you …" Stiles pointed the now clean blade at the werewolf, "I do not want to see you again. Keep your distance when we are in the same room. Am I understood?"

 

A heavy weight setting on his chest. His new Alpha … supposed Alpha rejecting him was the worst outcome possible, short of being thrown out. Derek should have kept his hands to himself. Should have only done what Lydia had told him. He was the Omega of this pack, how had he dared to touch something that belonged to his Alpha? Barely able to take a breath, Derek didn't trust his voice, so he only nodded before hanging his head in shame, sliding into the house as quiet as possible.

 

The moment Derek had closed the door behind himself, Stiles clawed at the Jeep, hold himself upright on the auto body, taking deep, gulping breathes. Scott was behind his friend in an instant, when the teenager pressed out from between clenched teeth, "He touched mum's Jeep. He dismantled it! He destroyed my mother's car, Scott!"

 

Wrapping both arms around Stiles from behind, pulling him towards the wall where they both slid down, Stiles sitting between Scott's leg's grazing on the edge of a panic attack, Scott whispered to him. "He did _not_ destroy it. Breathe, Stiles. Breathe, bro and look around. Everything is in order, some parts have been replaced. He renewed the paint of the doors and the hood and the rest of the frame. Stiles … take a deep breath … everything is going to be alright. He will put your mother's Jeep back together and the car will be better than before. He can do this, has done it before, everything is alright."

 

Taking deep breath after deep breath, Scott tried to encourage Stiles to mirror his motions, something he was only partially successful with. So he continued to sooth his best friend, "He ordered spare parts, Lydia told me on Monday. We had them rerouted and delivered by Jasper. Aiden talked to a garage in New York. The owner told him that Derek had rented a part of his workshop. He has repaired cars before. It's okay, Stiles. Your mother's Jeep will be alright and you will finally have a mechanic you can trust."

 

When Isaac entered, he looked at Scott worried. Only when the dark-haired boy reached out for him, the lanky teenager dare to come closer and wrap around the two of them from the side.

 

Here, in his home, surrounded by pack, Stiles finally managed to calm his erratic breathing. The thought of losing this tie to his mother, losing a Jeep she had loved so much and that brought back so many happy memories for him, was more than he could take. Everyone in this house knew, that Stiles was insanely protective of this car. There were pranks with pine scent-plates or lemon leather-polish with the other cars, stinking them up for a week, nobody had ever dared to include Stiles Jeep in their prank war, though he might have considerably less problem with heavily scented cleaning supplies than most other inhabitants of the house.

 

The Jeep was sacred and everybody knew.

 

~ * ~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the irregular updates, I hope you enjoy reading nevertheless.


	11. A Sense of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are a weird kind of family, I give you that. But still, they all look out for each other, trying to help the best they can.

 

When the three boys rose from the garage-floor, Scott nudged Stiles to go upstairs. When the teenager was out of earshot he turned towards Derek who was standing in the darkest corner in the living room. The werewolf was clutching his pyjamas and his toothbrush to his chest, looking fearful and lost.

 

For a moment, just one brief moment, Scott was tempted to just go upstairs and leave the guy. Stiles had been prone to panic attacks after his mother's death and now that his father had died, they had come back. A part of Scott wanted to see Derek suffer like his best friend had suffered, but in the end he knew that he could not do that.

 

Under his breath he asked Isaac if he and Allison could sleep in Isaac's room tonight, and his friend patted him on the back, vanishing upstairs without a word. Scott knew that he was blessed with such understanding partners, even if it had been a struggle to get to this point. But Derek had no one, so he was responsible to take care of him.

 

Looking at Derek, Scott took a place on the couch in the dark living room, seeing the man mirroring his gesture in sliding down the wall, drained by the evening's events. Ge was clenching his change of clothes and his toiletries so strong that his knuckles turned white, his voice however was feeble when he asked, "Will he sent me away? Back to my family and demand his money?"

 

"Is that what you are worried about? The money?" Scott asked calmly.

 

After a moment Derek shook his head. No, he was not worried about the money. He was scared that he had screwed up yet again, despite his best intentions. It was clear that he had made a huge mistake, something that had pushed his Alpha … owner … had pushed Stiles to the edge of a panic attack. He had remained within earshot, had heard the teenager's harsh breaths, the dry sobs Stiles had supressed and had smelled his overwhelming pain. There was nothing he could say to make this better. Still he tried. "I'm sorry. I didn't know … I just … I wanted to do something useful and when Allison told me how much Stiles cared about his Jeep and wouldn't drive it until he was repaired, I thought that I could help. I'm good at this. I didn't … I didn't destroy it. You can the car him to a garage and get is assembled, I swear I did no harm."

 

Scott closed his eyes taking a deep breath, before he rose and approached Derek, holding out his hand. "Come on, you are sleeping with me tonight."

 

When he heard the threat, Derek sagged a little before Scott squeezed his shoulder, now crouched down before him. "Hey … Derek. Derek, look at me. I meant sleep with me as in in my room, my bed if that's alright with you. Not sleep with me as in have sex with me. Nobody is going to do that. Especially not as a punishment. For what kind of monsters do you take us?"

 

"I'm sorry," Derek whispered brokenly. "I didn't mean to imply …" He had been alone all week, well except for a few hours in the evening. He had slept in his own bed, had kept to himself and a part of him – though terrified – had wanted to embrace the chance when Scott had told him about his new sleeping arrangement. Be it only to get any kind of physical contact he had so painfully missed.

 

"No, you didn't," Scott said softly, when Derek got more and more quiet with each word. "But you were still afraid. Aren't you?"

 

When the werewolf nodded, dreading to have to explain, Scott only put his hand on Derek's back, nudging him towards the stairs. "Not going to happen. Now, you know where my room is, go upstairs, take a shower if you like, change and go to bed. I will be with you in a few."

 

~ * ~

 

After making sure that the house was secured, especially all doors to and from the garage, Scott went upstairs to follow Derek. When opening Stiles' door, to check in with his friend, he found him wrapped around Lydia with Aiden holding the both of them from behind. When the twin raised his head to look at Scott, the teenager only smiled and nodded approvingly. He doubted that this had been Aiden's idea, Ethan was the compassionate one of the two. Most likely Lydia had decided that they would sleep in Stiles room tonight and he had not dared to contradict her.

 

When he finally approached his own room, he found Derek, rolled up in a ball on his comforter, smelling of his shower gel and radiating anxiety. Changing into his pyjamas, clothes he rarely wore, Scott joined him in bed, placing a steadying hand in the middle of Derek's back. Under his breath he explained, "The car was Stiles' mom's. They had made journeys with it, only the two of them, into the surrounding area or into the woods where they had picnicked or went hiking. After Claudia's death, John kept the car for Stiles and it had been the first one he had been allowed to drive when he turned sixteen."

 

Rubbing gentle circles over Derek's back, slowly pulling the tension away, watching the black veins traveling up on his arms, Scott continued, "When he saw it in parts, he panicked. But when he wakes up tomorrow, he will realize that you didn't destroy, but planned to repair it and everything is going to be alright."

 

When Derek did not outwardly react, Scott reached for his shoulder and turned him around. "Listen to me Derek. Once he realizes that you have tried to repair it, everything is going to be alright. Okay?"

 

Tentatively, Derek nodded. Scott had told him the truth, he had it heard in the regular heartbeat of the teenager, but still, a little doubt remained, when he remembered the cold and detached tone of Stiles' voice, when he had told him to stay the hell away from him.

 

After a little while Derek realized that Scott had pulled him closer, had put his arms around him, and was breathing evenly behind him. Slowly, heartbeat per heartbeat Derek calmed. He and his wolf were glad, that they did not have to sleep alone in their room, knowing that an angry Stiles lay not two feet away on the other side of the wall. Still his wolf insisted that they didn't belong to Scott, no matter how good this felt.

 

~ * ~

 

When Derek woke the next morning the sun had jet to rise. He dressed as quiet as possible, and left for the garage. Maybe Stiles would forgive him easier, the more of the car was assembled.

 

When Scott heard him sneaking down the stairs he lost the pyjama top and patted to Stiles room. During the night, the three inhabitants of Stiles bed had rearranged themselves. Lydia was now in the middle, lying with her head on Stiles chest, hugging him, Aiden was wrapped around her from behind.

 

Claiming the empty spot beside his friend, Scott crawled under the comforter, smiling when Stiles looked at him blearily. "Wher's Derek?"

 

Wondering how Stiles knew where the werewolf had slept, most likely Isaac had sneaked in before going to sleep. The enforcer was a terrible gossip, really, keeping Stiles in the loop on everything there was to know. Hugging his friend getting comfortable again, Scott whispered, "Assembling the Jeep."

 

For a moment Stiles watched him, before he opened his arms, letting Scott mirror Lydia's position, drifting off to sleep again.

 

~ * ~

 

Mrs. McCall had been on a nightshift. She was standing in the kitchen, preparing breakfast before going to bed herself, when the teenagers spilled into the kitchen around nine. When they all were seated, their heads turned towards Stiles and the empty chair by his side. He looked at them prompting, but when nobody touched his food, the teenager relented. "Fine, I'll get him!"

 

When the door to the house opened and Derek smelled Stiles, he stepped back from the car instantly, looking at his own naked feet. He realized that they were dirty, as were his hands, and for the longest moment, none of the two said anything. Derek had tried to work as fast as possible, but had been forced to start anew an hour into the process, because he had forgotten an important part in his haste to reassemble the engine. Now the motor was partially complete, only a few parts were missing. He would need only a few more hours and the Jeep would be as good as new. Still, he didn't dare to say so, Stiles harsh words from yesterday still too prominent in his mind.

 

When Stiles came closer Derek retreated, until the boy summoned him. "Come on, wolf-boy. Breakfast is getting cold. Wash your hands, the others are waiting."

 

When the teenager didn't step aside, Derek approached him slowly, giving him ample time to retreat. But contrary to his expectations, Stiles remained in place, touching Derek's shoulder gently, assuring him wordlessly.

 

The moment the boy made contact, a huge weight seemed to lift from the werewolf's chest. Finally able to breathe freely again, he assured quietly, "I would never destroy something that is important to you. I just wanted to fix it."

 

"I know, it's okay."

 

Relieved that Scott had been right, Derek dashed towards the kitchen to clean himself before taking his place at the table at Stiles side. Once his bum touched the chair, the teenagers scrambled for the food, eagerly enjoying the delicious breakfast.

 

~ * ~

 

After the meal the twins decided that they wanted to go shopping, dragging a reluctant Boyd and a very eager Erica with them. Derek had, with Stiles permission, returned to the garage, and Scott and Isaac were out in the back-yard for some hand-on-hand training. From Derek's point of view however they were fooling around more than anything else before they decided to go for a run.

 

The werewolf registered a car pulling up in front of the house, but since the garage-door did not open, he didn't pay it any mind. He started worrying, when he heard shuffling around the house and excited noises from the girls who were lounging in the living room, trading gossip. He cleaned his hands to go investigate, when the noises cut of abruptly.

 

~ * ~

 

Stiles, who had enjoyed a lazy morning, working on his high score of GTA, had heard someone coming in, eager to great the newcomer since Allison and Lydia had sounded excited, he entered the living room, freezing in his tracks. Danny stood in the middle of the room, hugging both Lydia and Allison, kissing them desperately. Stiles allowed himself only a second to taking in the worn and hunched figure who clutched at the girls before shouting for Derek.

 

The moment, the werewolf entered the living room Stiles ordered him, "Get Allison away from him!" While he was reaching for Lydia, twisting his body between her and Danny's. As expected the redhead tried to turn around again, her breath laboured, pupils blown wide, shivering all over.

 

Stiles kept holding her for a good minute, pulling her away from Danny, placing her at the bottom of the stairs, out of harm's way. She looked flustered and pale at the same time, but after a few more moments, she pulled herself together and nodded to him.

 

Turning around, Stiles swore when he realized that Danny, after being denied his easy prey, had pushed Derek against the wall and was kissing him frantically, his hands roaming over the werewolf's torso, reaching for his pants. Derek seemed to be on board with the plan, because he was fumbling with his belt, trying to open it as well.

 

Aware that this would end with a half-dead werewolf on the floor, Stiles crossed the room while Lydia pulled Allison away.

 

The teenager clutched Danny's dishevelled hair, forcefully dragging him away from Derek. Throwing him halfway across the room, the boy planted himself in front of the werewolf like a shield, hissing angry, "Derek is MINE! You are NOT to touch him without explicit permission! Are. We. Clear?"

 

Derek tried to shake his head, tried to wake himself from the passionate haze, the kisses of this boys had woken. A part of him wanted to reach for him, wanted to finish what this guy had started. But with Stiles standing between them, shouting at the black-haired boy, he didn't dare to move, although every part of his body urged him to reach for the newcomer.

 

With dread he took in the huddled form, Stiles had thrown to the floor. The tall boy was white as a sheet, his cheeks and eyes were sunken in. Huge circles under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in days. He was shivering all over, trying to crawl back to Stiles, pawing at the teenagers legs. His words were frantic, broken when he pleaded, "Stiles please, please, I need it. I will make it good for you, so very good. I make it worth the effort. Anything you want. But please …"

 

If Derek had ever seen a drug addict on withdraw this boy was one. A horrible thought came to mind, pushing though the cotton cloud of desire that seemed to fill his head. Maybe this was the reason all the teenagers were so pliant to Stiles' commands. The boy was supplying them and if they didn't obey, he stopped. Shivering all over, Derek looked at the trembling form crawling after Stiles, when the boy returned to his armchair.

 

As soon as the teenager was within reach, Stiles gently caressed his cheek, and the boy melted into the touch. Hesitantly he reached for Stiles' trousers. "I'll make it good," he repeated once again, "I promise."

 

"I know, Danny," was the only answer, when the boy reached for his own belt. "I know. It's alright," before allowing the boy to open his pants swallowing him down.

 

Shocked Derek remained where he was, taking in the scene were a sick boy was giving the Don of his family a blowjob in the middle of the living room. Lydia and Allison were still standing at the side, both typing agitatedly on their mobiles.

 

Stiles caressed Danny's tousled hair, whispering encouragements, when Allison and Lydia told him, "We have contacted the others. Scott and Isaac will be here in a minute"

 

"The twins are on their way. Boyd and Erica will stay away." Lydia spoke when Allison was finished.

 

Derek could understand the sentiment. This was the most degrading scene he had ever been forced to witness. He wished that he could leave as well, but his limps refused to obey his commands. Whatever was happening urged him to remain as close to this boy and Stiles as possible. So he remained where he was and watched this desolate boy blow his boss to get his fix.

 

~ * ~

 

 Stiles, tried to regulate his breathing when he acknowledged the information, ordering the girls to go upstairs. With barely a nod they fled. Scott and Isaac scrambled through the back door. The teenager arched into a particularly stimulating suckle, encouraging Danny hoarsely, "That's it, exactly like that. You are doing so good," before reaching out for his friends.

 

Derek heard him whispering, "He's starving," but since that didn't make any sense, withdrawal was certainly not the same as hunger, he wondered if this boy was expected to blow every member of the house, before Stiles would supply him.

 

Scott and Isaac barely hesitated at the door. Pulling off their shirts, wiping away the sweat before throwing them back outside. They approached Danny and Stiles, the former clawing at Stiles' thighs, as if that would make him come faster. They bracketed the boy on the floor, reaching for Stiles hands, lacing their fingers. A good part of his tension seemed to leave Stiles at the contact, smiling at his friends, before relaxing back into the chair, finally closing his eyes.

 

Isaac seemed at loss of what to do, but Scott reached for the taller boy's cheek, assuring him, "It's alright. The others are too far away so we have to help. We will do this, together, okay?"

 

When the lanky boy nodded, Scott pulled him closer, kissing him most tenderly. It took the two of them barely a minute to turn the adoring kiss passionate, and when they reached for Danny's shirt, tearing it apart, Derek whined under his breath. He didn't want to see this. By everything that was sacred, he didn't want to see these teenagers forcing themselves on this poor guy!

 

He had closed his eyes, but from what he heard his worst fears did not seem to come true so he opened them again. Danny had pulled back from Stiles, still holding the boy in place so forcefully that Derek suspected Stiles' thighs to be covered in blue spots the next day. Still the teenager didn't protest, he just watched the newcomer being kissed by Scott, with Isaac nibbling at his shoulder, before turning around, chasing Isaac's mouth. Neither boy seemed to care where his mouth had been just a minute ago.

 

After a few moments, the shivering boy turned his face towards Stiles, and as expected, the teenager kissed him eagerly, before they broke apart, Danny returning to his erected cock. The motions were still anxious but less frantic than before, with Scott and Isaac still caressing him from behind, whispering assurances at him that they would help.

 

Stiles didn't need more than a few minutes, the noises he made indicated that the boy was very, very good at what he was doing. When he came, he pushed up into the teenager's mouth, who swallowed every last drop eagerly. After a few moments of post-orgasmic haze, where he watched Danny making out with Isaac and Scott, he pulled up his pants.

 

The next moment, the twins all but broke through the front door. Ethan looked scared when seeing the guy on the floor. "Danny, what the hell …?"

 

The familiar voice seemed to trigger something, because instantly the boy pulled back from Scott and Isaac, scrambling for purchase to reach Ethan. For a moment, Derek thought seeing his eyes clouding over pitch-black, but he wrote it off as a trick of the light. The kiss between the two boys was forceful, almost brutal, but nobody seemed to think anything about it. The taller Danny wrapped his legs around Ethan's waist, and the boy, not swaying in the slightest, picked him up from the floor and carried him upstairs.

 

Everybody seemed to hover uncertainly, until Stiles ordered, "He started with the girls. Aiden, go upstairs and help Lydia. Scott, Isaac, he kissed Allison as well before we separated them. She will be eager for help by now."

 

"Are you …" Though ready to follow the command, Scott and Isaac hesitated for a moment, until Stiles nudged them. "Yes, I am sure. It wasn't that bad with the two of you fuelling me. Go, I will take care of the food."

 

~ * ~

 


	12. A Demon in the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek get's help and an explanation that is sorely needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the updated tags. There is dub-con in this chapter and if it's not for you you might want to skip it.
> 
> So, before we are beginning, I will take my time to give an explanation about how werewolves work in my mind. If you never wondered how Derek doesn't realize that he is actually living with a pack just jump straight to the chapter and have fun :).
> 
> I am, more or less, concluding from the show. Whenever there is something strange going on, the wolves have to make the concious choice to look for it, with their eyes, their ears or - most often - with their sense of smell. The pack that's the main focus of my story are very, very careful to keep their status hidden. There were subtle indicators that they are, in fact, werewolves, but you have to make a connection to get them.  
>  Derek, as some of you have pointed out, is neither oblivious nor stupid. Wolves are just really rare and it's not likely that they can be found at every corner. This is his mother's territory. Etiquette would dictate, that every pack in the vicinity approaches Alpha-Hale and introduce themselves. So there really is no reason for Derek to be suspicious.
> 
> Also, that he didn't recognize what Danny was: In the show Derek has learned everything he knew about the supernatural from his mother or friends of the family. Does my Hale-Family really give the impression of being very open about these things? Talia keeps most of her knowledge to herself. Derek knew everything he needed to get the job in New York done. Yes, maybe he was told stories as a child, but just because we were read Hansel and Gretel as infants, we don't expect gingerbread-houses around the corner. I hope you can understand what I'm trying to say.
> 
> Derek was given to a mob-family, a bunch of human teenagers. Nothing about their behaviour indicated them to be something else. Nothing but them holding a territory a grown man had reigned not half a year before. Yes they are exceptional, but for now they did nothing out of the ordinary. (Well, not much.)
> 
> I hope this explanation helps you to understand how I see this universe and since I wrote it, I am arrogant enough to go with it, despite there being small holes in my logic and all. Just role with it and enjoy the story, I promise it will be worth it :).
> 
> ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Stiles staggered into the kitchen, pulling orange-juice from the fridge and stirring a spoon full of honey into it, before downing the entire glass. He waited for a few minutes, allowing the sugar to absorb into his bloodstream so he could at least stand without swaying. Helping Danny always took a lot out of him, even with his friends helping. Derek entered the kitchen a moment later on unsteady feet

 

Looking up, the teenager noticed the werewolf trembling all over, his pupils blown wide, his body covered in a sheen layer of sweat. "Wow, Danny really did a number on you. Not used to an incubus in the house, are you?" Stiles said, slowly approaching the jittery man.

 

Nothing of this made sense to Derek. Stiles' words barely registered. His skin felt too tight for his body. He needed … something, but he didn't know what. He felt like energy was pooling or gathering in his body, with no chance for him to get rid of it. He felt like he was about to burst and it bordered on painful. His wolf, however, was convinced that Stiles could make it better, because he was the leader of this pack … this family. He had to know what was wrong!

 

Stiles’ touch was the first thing to anchor him, to ease the pressure a little, ever since all of this had started. He didn't know, didn’t understand what was happening, but Stiles gently guided him to the counter, rubbing his wrist in a calming manner. When the boy spoke, Derek just whined because he needed … needed something so desperately, but didn't know what to ask for. He leaned closer before he could stop himself. But instead of pushing him back as expected, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, holding him close. Derek nearly clawed at the teenagers shoulders in his attempts to fuse their bodies. It was not much, but it helped.

 

Gently caressing the werewolf, Stiles whispered into his ear. "Danny fuelled your lust far beyond what's normal. That's the reason it hurts so much. You have to come, it's that easy. This house is Danny's sanctuary, he will be able to draw your energy, no matter where you are. You just have to come and everything will be better. Do you understand?"

 

Derek's hands wandered over the boy's back, reached for Stile's hips, holding himself together by holding on to the boy. The words made little sense to him, but the main message got across. He should go, go upstairs, go somewhere private, but Stiles continued, "I can help you. I can make it easier because I can channel your energy. But I won't do it, I won't touch you unless it's what you want. You can do it all by yourself but it would be faster with me helping."

 

Shaking his head, trying to dispel the horrible haze, Derek tried to pull Stiles even closer. It felt good, it helped with the fuzziness and the energy that wanted to burst out of his skin. He wanted it, wanted Stiles to touch him with every fibre of his being but he couldn’t say it. Couldn't admit what he so desperately needed because he was ashamed of himself. All he got out was, "Please," over and over again.

 

Luckily Stiles seemed to understand, because he gently kissed Derek's shoulder and reached between their bodies. "You have to give me a little room here, buddy." When Derek pulled back a fraction, Stiles praised him quietly and it instantly soothed the werewolf, "That's it, you are doing so very well. Come on, let's get you on the counter, so you won't fall."

 

Shifting slightly, Derek felt the edge of the kitchen-island digging into his back. When Stiles prompted him, he pulled himself up, not caring about his greasy jeans and the sweaty t-shirt he still wore from working in the garage. When Stiles opened his trousers, reaching for his painfully erected cock, Derek scrambled for purchase. This was better, so much better than anything he had ever experienced. Stiles’ fingers around his erection were strong and skilled, sending electric shocks through his system. They were insistent, but used just the right amount of pressure, and the pleasure they were evoking was beyond anything Derek could remember.

 

His shaft was already slick with precum and Stiles distributed every new drop that welled up at the head over the already slick skin. He was still whispering encouragements, easing Derek's sweaty hair out of his face, caressing the werewolf with his other hand. The gentle touches combined with the relief his movements brought felt perfect.

 

This was absolute bliss for Derek. He had not felt so good in a very, very long time, and a part of him wanted to share this blissful feeling with Stiles, but he couldn't do anything except moan at a particularly stimulating twist of Stiles wrist, or the tender caress at the underside of his cock. No matter the intention, these motions did not feel automated, there only for a single purpose. It felt like affection and care and Derek felt tears welling up in his eyes, when his pleasure peaked for the first time.

 

Stiles however did not stop. Softly he stroked Derek's still hard erection. Gently he kissed the werewolf's forehead, brushing away his tears with a sweep of his thumb, whispering tenderly, "We will do it again, until you go soft. Is that alright with you?"

 

These words were so affectionate, so full of kindness, that the werewolf was unable to pull back, despite feeling a little better after the first orgasm. He really should take care of this himself, but he couldn't bring himself to separate himself from Stiles. He wanted more, wanted everything. He wanted to touch Stiles the way Stiles was touching him, despite knowing that he did not have the right. Something in his eyes must have betrayed him, because Stiles wrapped his free arm around Derek's shoulders, pulling him closer, so that the werewolf could bury his face in the teenager's neck. Derek's arms helplessly closed around the boy, clinging onto his shoulders while Stiles coaxed the next orgasm out of him.

 

He wanted to howl, wanted to claim, wanted to bite when the pleasure built again. But Stiles was not his to claim. He belonged to this bunch of teenagers, or more they belonged to him. And though Derek knew that he belonged to Stiles as well, in that moment he wanted to give everything to this boy, everything he was, mind, body and soul.

 

He howled when he came the third time and the strength of the orgasm made him lose consciousness. He did not even register that Stiles carefully eased him back to the counter, wavering unsteadily for a moment before putting his own bunched up shirt under his head, so that Derek would rest easier. And if Stiles tenderly brushed the sweaty strands of Derek's hair out of his face, kissing his forehead, well, nobody would ever know.

 

~ * ~

 

When Derek came around, he noticed with no small amount of embarrassment, that he was still lying on the counter, with all of the teenagers surrounding him. He wanted to stand up but lost his grip on the edge, falling back with a thud. He heard someone chuckling lowly and managed to turn his head, seeing this Danny-kid coming down the stairs with a tired but goofily grinning Ethan behind him.

 

The difference between the boy who had entered this house and the one now entering the kitchen could not be more prominent. He had looked thin, haggard and weak before, but now he seemed to glow with an inner light. His skin was smooth and healthy, his hair was shining, though still matted to his head, but the boy managed to make it look perfect.

 

Embarrassed, hesitant to move to draw even more attention to himself, despite being on display, Derek watched him approach the counter. Danny dragged his finger through the mostly dried cum that covered Derek's stomach and shirt, putting it into his mouth, savouring the taste. His voice was a seductive purr, when he decided, "You taste delicious, handsome. Mind if I have another bite?"

 

"Danny!" Stiles rebuked the boy, making him look up. The sheepish gaze betrayed his bad conscience when Danny stepped around the counter, approaching Stiles. Hanging his head, he mumbled, "Sorry."

 

"Can I …" Danny looked at Stiles bashfully. "I could recharge you now." Stepping closer, putting his hands on Stiles' hips, Danny stage whispered. "Ethan fucked me through the mattress … twice. Allison and Lydia were taken care off and with your new wolf here coming trice, I'm at full strength again."

 

Hitting the back of Danny's head, Stiles shook his head. Danny chewed at his bottom lip seductively, looking at Stiles from under his eyelashes until both boys started laughing. "You, my man, are the worst!" Stiles decided, before taking Danny's face into his hands, kissing him open mouthed.

 

Derek was confused by this open display of affection and, he had to admit to himself, a little jealous. The strange thing was, Stiles’ and Danny's lips barely met. The black-haired boy just exhaled purposefully with his eyes closed, and Stiles inhaled this very breath. The werewolf blamed his wooziness, but for a moment he was convinced that violet mist passed between the teenagers.

 

The breath seemed to invigorate Stiles and after a second, he let go of Danny and pushed him towards Derek. "Now apologize. What you did was not right and you know it, Danny."

 

A little more serious now, the teenager approached Derek. He picked up a glass of sweet smelling orange juice, reaching for the werewolf to help him. But Derek flinched back. He did not know what had just happened exactly, but he felt better, much better now, relaxed and boneless. But still he could remember the strange feeling from before. He was unable to distinguish what it had been, but it was clear to him that this boy had been the reason for it.

 

Taking the glass from Danny, Stiles steadied Derek enough so that he could sit up, helping him with the first sips of juice. After emptying half the glass Derek felt a little better and reached for it. After downing it, he felt Lydia's hand on his shoulder, offering a piece of chocolate. He gulped it down, not letting this 'Danny' out of his sight

 

Slightly hesitantly Danny seemed to catch the eyes of everybody in the room.

 

Only now did Derek realize that he had lain on the kitchen counter like a strange kind of sacrifice, surrounded by the inhabitants of the house. Nobody seemed to care that he had dried cum on his shirt and that his jeans were stained with oil from the garage. They just sat on the stools that surrounded the counter, the girls on the laps of their boyfriends, sipping juice and eating sweets. Even Erica and Boyd were there again, unpacking ice-cream, handing out spoons. Everybody seemed tussled, and they all had a satisfied grin on their faces. The air was saturated with the scent of sex and satisfaction and Derek felt his stomach clench at that smell. What the hell had happened while he had been unconscious?

 

Derek wanted to stand on his own two feet, but he did not fell steady enough for it, at the moment, so he accepted another glass, this time of water, before he looked at Danny again.

 

The teenager used the opportunity to offer his hand, "Hi, I'm Danny, I'm an incubus and I am sorry that I kissed you without asking permission first. I usually don't do that, but I haven't fed in a week and was really, really hungry and you … you smelled good enough to eat, wolf-boy."

 

Turning his head, Derek looked at Stiles because this … there was no way for this to be real. Werewolves were one thing, emissaries another, but a sex demon, that was really pushing it. "Is he serious?"

 

Grinning, Stiles hugged Danny from behind, pulling the teenagers shirt over his head, revealing what could only be described as a perfect body. Slowly he let his hands wander over the smooth torso, stopping short of the hem of Danny's pants. Stiles lips were trailing from Danny's shoulder to his neck where he nipped the smooth skin, his words were but a breath caressing the boy's skin, "Show him, Daniel!"

 

Danny groaned, leaned into the contact, reached out to keep Stiles hands on his skin.

 

Fascinated, Derek watched the skin where Stiles touched Danny, change from the healthy tan into a shimmering midnight-blue. The colour bloomed from Stiles hands until it covered the boy from head to toe. Stiles shifted a little to allow two wings unfold from the boys back, and when Danny opened his eyes again, they were pitch-black.

 

Stepping away from the teenager, Danny approached the werewolf again. His voice was pure seduction, lighting up the nerve endings of Derek's skin, making him tremble all over, when the boy asked, "What about now, handsome, do you prefer this form? Would let me kiss you? I swear I would make it the best kiss ever."

 

Derek swallowed heavily around his constricting throat. He wanted this. At least, his body wanted this, gravitated towards the demon who now filled the better part of the kitchen. But at the same time, his wolf was clawing at his mind, telling him to pull back, that this was wrong. That they belonged to Stiles and this creature had no right to seduce them.

 

Shaking his head a minuscule amount, Derek tried to get away from this demon. When he slid from the counter he stumbled, but two strong hands kept him from falling. When he looked up, he could see the warm, brown eyes of a demon turned human again.

 

This time there was not the faintest hint of seduction in his voice when Danny spoke. "Hey, I'm sorry. You're Derek, aren't you? I apologize for taking from you without you offering in the first place. That was not right and I shouldn't have done it."

 

Looking around, he helping Derek to the chair that Scott and Allison had just vacated, Danny pulled a box of ice-cream closer, opening it and offering a spoon. "I could kiss you, fuel you with energy, but I think you would prefer recharging yourself, don’t you?"

 

When Derek nodded hesitantly, Danny repeated, "I didn't mean to take what was not offered freely, I'm not that kind of demon. It won't happen again, Derek. I promise."

 

~ * ~

 

And that was Derek's introduction to the last member of the Stilinski crime family.

 

After he was more or less steady on his feet, they all relocated to the living-room. Danny sat at Ethan's feet, enjoying his boyfriend scratching his head like a huge, content cat. All the other pairs sat half on top of each other on the generous couch and the love-seat. Lydia and Aiden snuggled into the cushions, with the redhead hand-feeding her boyfriend strawberry ice-cream. Allison was on Scott's lap with Isaac at her feet, massaging them gently while taking bites of hazelnut ice cream she offered now and then. Stiles had picked up a huge box of chocolate-ice cream with brownie pieces, and when he saw Derek's searching gaze, he pulled up his feet, picking up another spoon, holding it out for Derek.

 

"Come on, wolf-boy, let's share. I promise you will like this one."

 

So Derek sat at Stiles' feet, sharing a package of ice-cream, enjoying the warmth of the teenager's legs, seeping through his back. He should be embarrassed, Stiles had given him a handjob, and everybody knew it, since they had found him passed out on the counter, covered in his own cum. But since nobody seemed to think anything about it, it was hard to work himself up over it, especially since he remembered the feeling of coming in Stiles' arms. He had just lost his shirt and cleaned away the worst of the mess he had made of himself.

 

Erica and Boyd, who had claimed the love-seat, jumped up when the doorbell rang. Though they had not been in the house when Danny had been pulling on all of their sexual energies, they seemed particularly handsy with each other as well.

 

When they entered the living room again, carrying huge boxes of pizza, everybody sat aside the ice-cream, reaching for the boxes. Claiming a box before anybody could bite his hand off, Stiles opened it in his lap, offering a huge piece of Salami pizza to Derek. Realizing how starved he was, Derek inhaled it and promptly was given more. Danny was gathering the half-empty ice-cream containers, storing them safely in the fridge so that they could enjoy them for desert later and not have those all melted.

 

After half of the meal was gone, Stiles took it upon himself to explain, what brought this demon into their house. "It happened three years ago. Danny and Ethan were out clubbing when an incubus picked them up and took them home. Ethan was … immune, but Danny was changed almost immediately. We had a lot of problems in the beginning, until Lydia found a helpful reference in an ancient text about demons. It seems that incubus lose themselves to the hunger, killing people only when they are alone and without an evocator … an anchor in this case.

 

"With the help of an ancient ritual I became Danny's master, commanding the demon inside of him. My first order was an explicit forbiddance for him to kill humans. We had very little problems ever since. Except …" he continued, "except when this idiot thinks that he can make it without food for an extended amount of time. Honestly Danny, you haven't looked so bad since the incident with Morell. What happened?"

 

Sheepishly Danny looked up from the piece of pizza he was nibbling on. "I … Ethan charged me before he left last week, and I didn’t want to go out and pick up easy prey only to fuck in the back of a club. I thought I could make it, but then business dragged on and on and I reached the point where I was not sure I could hold back any longer not to harm anyone. So I came here, I thought with you it would be easier."

 

"And here the first ones you met were Lydia and Allison." Stiles shook his head. "Not the best plan in the world, Danny-boy."

 

"I know," the incubus mumbled, looking up at Lydia and Allison apologetic, "I'm sorry."

 

"We know," Lydia nudged him with the tip of her toe, only to have Danny reach for her foot, placing a kiss on top of it.

 

"Hey," Allison barged in, pretending to be jealous. "Why does only Lydia get a proper apology?"

 

Smiling, Danny crawled over to her. From Derek's point of view he looked like a giant jungle cat, lean and graceful. Kneeling beside Isaac, who grinned at him expectantly, he reached for Allison's foot as well and placed a tender kiss on her arch, before nipping on the soft skin.

 

Allison nearly slid off Scott's lap when trying to drag her foot back, laughing because she was ticklish. They had a game of tug-o-war for a moment, before Danny rose to his knees, burying his face in her neck, kissing it lovingly. "I'm sorry, Ally. I didn't mean to hurt you."

 

"I know," the girl assured him as well, before Isaac pulled Danny between his legs, hugging him from behind. The blond boy gently kissed the dark hair, something the demon-slash-teenager seemed to enjoy, and stated, "We all know that you would never intentionally harm us, but you shouldn't do that again. You scared us, Danny. You have to take better care of yourself."

 

"I know," the incubus mumbled, "I just … I just wanted to have you, and not some nameless jerk from the street. They are intoxicated and worn and disgusting and I don't like the way they taste."

 

"It's okay, Danny." Stiles assured him. "But before something like this happens again tell us and someone will come to you. It's not right that we endanger each other, nor should you starve yourself. We are a family and we take care of each other. Promise you will call the next time."

 

"I promise," Danny whispered gratefully, snuggling deeper into Isaacs embrace.

 

~ * ~

 

 


	13. Red Hood Trading Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek get's to know the Stilinski's Trading Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good things come to those who wait and you all have waited so very patiently. Not that you had another chance. Sadly school and work were quite taxing for the last two weeks so my cherished beta PlumisNoctis and I were not able to come up with this chapter any sooner. But we promise to be better from now on. Well, let's say we promise to try ;).

 

Danny, as Derek realized when being invited to go to the office with Isaac and Stiles, was the family's go-to guy for everything that was technically more advanced than the toaster. You would think that having an incubus at your disposal, someone who could charm you, would be someone to take advantage of when securing business deals. But most of the time, when they were at the company, Danny stayed in his spacious office, so concentrated on his work that the personal assistant Meredith Walker, had to force water or food on him, because he forgot these things easily over his beloved computers.

 

As it turned out, Red Hood Trading Company had two personal assistants for the executive suit. One was Meredith, who was shy and rarely looked into your eyes when you spoke to her, but she did her work with a single-minded determination that bore on mania. The second one was Isaac, apparently his 'day-job' besides serving as Stiles' enforcer. He was swift, fast on the uptake and usually the spokesperson when clients entered.

 

At the end of his first week in the Stilinski house, Lydia had grilled Derek about the documents she had offered for him to study. Once she had deemed his knowledge sufficient, she had told Stiles that Derek would accompany him on Monday. The boy had not even bothered to protest. So Isaac, Danny, and Derek had stood in the accustomed 'uniform' for members of the Stilinski family and waited for Stiles to come downstairs.

 

Apparently the leader of this family was the only one, who was allowed colours in his change of clothes. Though most suits he wore were pretty dark, his base colour pallet ranged from dark blue to moss green as well as pin-stripe suits with light blue shirts underneath. All of them looked as if they were tailored, even though Lydia had told Derek that all of them always bought their suits at the same boutique.

 

Isaac drove the company car, shadowing Stiles’ every move. When Derek was introduced to Meredith, after Danny had kissed her cheek, hiding a little package in the pocket of her jacket, she briefly looked up at the teenager, but avoided eye-contact at all cost. Still, she smiled a little, and set him up in an empty office at Stiles request. The room was barely fifty square-feet, with shelves full of folders dominating one wall and a desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. The thought of facing the door with his back to the window made Derek uneasy, but he didn't mention it.

 

When he returned from lunch with Isaac and Stiles in the conference room on the same floor, the angle of the desk was changed by ninety degrees, so that his back was to the picture of a beautiful landscape and he was facing the wall of shelves, with both the door and the window in his peripheral vision. Despite having to go over dozens more pages of accounts today he left his new office, cautiously addressing the secretary, "Miss Walker?" When the young woman acknowledged his words by tilting her head without looking up, he continued, "Did you rearrange my desk?"

 

"No, I asked Sebastian from HR to do it for me."

 

"May I ask why?" Derek was unsure of how to interact with this woman. She was determined and fast in her work, and she seemed brilliant at multitasking, as he had seen her type an e-Mail while talking to Stiles about a flight-plan he needed. Still, something about her unsettled him. But since she was working for the company, he didn't know how much he could question her judgement.

 

"Because he is stronger than me. I didn't want to clear the desk just to change the angle."

 

When Derek didn't say anything, but remained hovering in the doorframe, the woman with the unruly hair looked up at him for a second, before lowering her eyes again. After a few moments she whispered, "You were uncomfortable. Stiles said to make sure you are comfortable. It's part of the job."

 

"Ahm …" Derek really didn't know how to respond to Stiles ordering his secretary to care of him or her picking up on his unease. In the end there really was only one thing to say, "Thank you," even when the woman ignored him.

 

~ * ~

 

During his first week, Derek worked his way through the book of the last two years. They were mostly identical to the ones Lydia had offered. Derek met everybody Danny deemed important enough to introduce to him over lunch. He studied company profiles, read articles regarding public appearances of the entire Stilinski family, including the now deadClaudia and John. He noticed that the receptionist nicked office supplies, that the meat dishes they ordered in the cafeteria was shared with three other office buildings that surrounded them and were expanded with tofu, and that the guy who usually cared for their books had a deal with the delivering company of their office supplies, stealing paper worth about a hundred bucks a month.

 

When he told Stiles about these things, the teenager started laughing and said that he now knew why Ethan and Aiden almost always scrunched their noses at the meat-loaf when they ate here. He knew about the nicking of office supplies, but the receptionist had a two year old daughter and that his wife was currently out of a job. He only stole paper and highlighter pens for his little one – Meredith had even ordered a few sets with more colours than usual – and that Stiles was willing to overlook that, since it cost them no more than ten dollars a week. With his accountant however, he had a very stern meeting.

 

Derek expected the man to walk out of the building within the hour, but during lunch he heard that the he had merely been reduced to tears by Stiles, but not fired. After lunch Derek decided to have a little heart to heart with him as well. He had been the one who had found the irregularities in the books, because honestly, three hundred bucks for office supplies every month was pushing it.

 

He was pinning the guy to the wall, about to explain to him in detail what would happen if he ever tried to pull something like that again, when he heard a subtle cough behind himself. Stiles voice was smooth, the tone he only used when conducting business, "I would like to introduce you to William Bale, Derek."

 

"William, as you might guess, Derek Hale was the one who found out about your little … side project. But since we have already talked about this, and William had been an estimated member of our staff for the last ten years, I am reasonably sure that something like this won't happen again. After all, he has worked as our accountant ever since college, and what would he do if word gets out that he's stealing?"

 

Apparently Stiles had it covered, threats and all, so Derek growled under his breath before letting go. Pleasantly the teenager requested, "Would you please follow me Derek, I think William has had enough excitement for one day."

 

When they entered the executive suite, Meredith once more proved her ability of foresight, opening the door to the only sound-proofed chamber on this floor: the conference room.

 

Once the door was closed behind them, Stiles grabbed Derek's shirt, including the collar, pushing the werewolf back against the door and nearly strangling him. For a few moments, the boy only looked at him, his eyes ablaze with fury, before Derek lowered his eyes in submission, baring his neck as far as Stiles' grip allowed it.

 

Pulling the werewolf closer, Stiles hissed into his ear, "You will never, EVER touch one of my employees. And if you EVER go behind my back again, no matter the reason, I will chain you down in the house and burry you under a mountain of paperwork so that you don't see the light of day. Are we clear?"

 

Something in Derek bristled at the outlook of being confined to the house, he had only wanted to help. "He was stealing from you. He shouldn't do that. I just wanted …"

 

But before he could explain himself conclusively, the grip on the collar tightened; Stiles knuckles painfully dug into his throat and Adam's apple, effectively cutting off his words. Derek thought for a moment that he smelled a sickening amount of roses, when Danny's smooth voice sounded from behind Stiles' shoulder, "Is everything alright?"

 

When looking up, he saw the teenager, impeccably dressed like always, but his eyes black as night, looking at Derek without the slightest hint of compassion.

 

Stiles however, didn't seem to have a problem with a demon suddenly appearing behind him, since he only gripped Derek tighter and repeated his question, "Are. We. Clear?"

 

Closing his eyes, admitting defeat, Derek whispered, "Yes, Mr. Stilinski."

 

Nothing was worth being locked up, and Derek hadn't wanted to undermine Stiles authority. He had never known a 'civil' life, where things were handled differently than when working with criminals. So he had to accept the decisions Stiles made, even if they might cost him the respect of his employees.

 

When Stiles let go, Derek sagged against the door, not daring to look up. He had just steadied himself when said door was opened, and Meredith addressed Danny, "Mr. Mahealani, your conference call waits for on line two, I have told them that you would be a bit late. Mr. Stilinski, Mrs. Stilinski is waiting for you on line one."

 

Looking at Derek one last time, the teenagers said in unison, "Thank you, Meredith," before leaving the conference room, entering their respective offices. How the secretary had known that Danny was there was beyond Derek.

 

~ * ~

 

Stiles barely looked at him when they drove home that evening. The teenager had forgiven him for touching his Jeep without asking first, had actually been pretty thrilled at the repairs and the sound of the engine purring like a kitten again after Derek had put it back together. They had enjoyed a brief tour, Stiles talking nonstop about how awesome it was that he now had a mechanic he could trust with his baby. But now, Derek sat in a backseat he had upholstered personally and felt like the least welcome person on earth. Isaac was riding shotgun again. Nobody said a word.

 

It didn't get better when they arrived at the house. Stiles had changed out of his suit and sunk into his armchair after dinner, more or less hiding behind his tablet. Derek had not even tried sitting down next to him, since he was sure that he would not be welcome. The twins didn't seem to notice the tense atmosphere, slouching down in Derek's usual place, going over their collection of Steam Trading Cards Danny had found some unique cards during his last trip to Concord. The scene was so domestic that it made Derek's heart ache, especially since Stiles absent-mindedly carded his fingers through both boys' hair on occasion.

 

Derek left for the gym after dinner, not able to deal with the domestic bliss he was no longer allowed to be part off.

 

A little while after Derek had left, Danny shooed Isaac, Allison and Scott away from the love-seat where they were making out, claiming it for himself. He only had to call Stiles name once, because the teenager was always extremely sensitive to his family’s needs, so rarely any of them had to ask twice for his attention. Rising from his chair, Stiles relocated, sinking into a corner, pulling a waiting Danny into his arms.

 

The administrator of the Red Hood Trading Company (also the hacker for … well, everything when it came to business in the Stilinski Family) saw him juggling numbers for their next trade and let him be, gently caressing his tummy through the graphic t-shirt, slowly pulling the tension out of his friend. When Stiles groaned, putting away the tablet and sinking into the love-seat, the twins finally seemed to notice that he was not sitting beside them any longer.

 

"Hey!" Ethan started.

 

"You can't steal him away like that." Aiden continued.

 

Pouting, the both of them rose, and relocated to the floor in front of the love-seat, spreading their cards between them. "You have him all day, that's not fair."

 

Both Danny and Stiles smiled and carded their fingers through the boys' hair, petting them (although none of the four would ever admit to it).

 

After a while, Danny addressed the matter at hand, "You can't be angry with him forever. He's too new to our family. He will think that you don't like him anymore."

 

"At the moment, I don't like him very much to be honest. Really, Danny, you should have seen William's face. He was scared to death. And for what? A couple of hundred bucks. Derek has seen the numbers, he knows that that's peanuts for us."

 

Slowly worming his hand under Stiles's shirt while still laying snuggled against his chest, as skin-to-skin-contact always worked best for the incubus when he wanted to convince someone, he replied, "If it were one of our dealers, how would you have reacted?"

 

"Beaten him up. I have to be able to trust the people on the street. We have a limit for that kind of petty theft. If it's more than ten bucks they bleed for it. You know that."

 

Caressing the taunt muscles on Stiles' torso, Danny nodded, not looking up. He didn't need to see Stiles to know that his magic was working when he was slowly spreading low amounts of pleasure through the boy's system. It was harder than evoking passion in a person, but Stiles was his Master, his demon always wanted him to feel good and therefore did not fight the selfless gesture.

 

Slowly Stiles was losing the tension that had kept him wound up all evening. "And that's all Derek has ever seen from you. He was confined to wither in this house or his office ever since coming here. He never got the chance to watch Mr. Stiles, John's beloved son, mingle with the employees; drink with them during the summer fest or the Christmas party. He has never seen you handpick presents for them. He knows the mobster who has cut people open because they threaten his territory and draws blood for a raid on a grocery store."

 

"I …" Stiles continued, closing his eyes in defeat. "Shit."

 

"I'm not saying that what he did was right. But had he reacted that way out in the streets, protecting your interest, you would have been proud of him instead of angry." Danny continued, softly, finally looking up. "Wouldn't you?"

 

"But it happened in the office, and our accountant was so close to a heart-attack. He can't do these things at Red Hood." Stiles sighed, looking at the incubus who lay curled up in his lap.

 

"No he can't. But ignoring him won't change his attitude, only increase his fear. Is that what you want Stiles? To rule this pack with fear?"

 

"Scott is ruling this pack, he is the Alpha." Stiles whispered, not liking the thought of any member of his family being scared of him.

 

A low snicker from the couch made Stiles look at Scott, who brushed away Allison's hair to give Isaac better access to her neck. All three stopped in their open display of affection and shook their heads. Still, Scott was the one voicing his opinion, "That's bullshit and you know it, bro. I might be the Alpha wolf, but you are the Alpha human. This pack, this family needs the both of us to stay healthy and whole. Danny is not the only one who would be lost without a human anchor. Allison and Lydia are human as well, as is my mother. We all trust you to make the right decisions for us twenty-eight days of the month, and even for the last two to three the two of us anchor this pack together. Otherwise we wouldn't be able to go through a full moon, huddled up in a nest in the cinema downstairs, watching funny movies instead of roaming through the woods, howling to the moon."

 

"You are a strong human." Ethan looked up at Stiles.

 

"Stronger than some wolves we knew," Aiden continued. "You are a pain in the ass, too loud and too hyperbolical and too much of really anything. But our wolves feel as safe with you as with Scott. Safer even than with Deucalion, and he was the strongest Alpha we have ever known."

 

When Danny started humming a melody, everybody started groaning, but the incubus only rose, perching up on the back of the couch and started singing, "Listen as your day unfolds, challenge what the future holds,

"Try and keep your head up to the sky.

"Lovers, they may ‘cause you tears,

"Go ahead release your fears, stand up and be counted,

"Don't be ashamed to cry."

 

Nudging Stiles, who couldn't help but smile, he continued, "You gotta be,

"You gotta be bad, you gotta be bold, you gotta be wiser.

"You gotta be hard, you gotta be tough, you gotta be stronger.

"You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together."

 

Looking at the others expectantly, he hesitated before they drew a collective breath and fell in, "All I know, all I know, love will save the day."

 

Maybe it was embarrassing to have a hymn from Des'ree, but over the years this song had turned out to become some kind of a motto for their family. Whenever Danny started it they sang along, joining at the second chorus. It didn't matter that, apart from Danny and Allison, none of them could carry a tune, it was just something they did together, and a strong sense of unity washed over Stiles whenever it happened.

 

Scott felt it too from the way he looked at his best friend, joy lighting up his eyes. They all sank back to the couches when the song was finished and when Danny looked at Stiles expectantly, the teenager gave in. "Alright, I will talk to him."

 

That turned out a little more complicated than expected, because of course Derek had heard them singing when he had left the gym. They all had looked so happy, a perfect family despite not being related by blood, that he hadn't dared to barge in, not even to apologize. Instead he had gone upstairs to shower and had gone to bed. When Stiles opened his door, he pretended to be fast asleep until the teenager retreated.

 

~ * ~

 

The only problem was that Derek was unable to fall asleep. Even after Stiles had gone to bed, he felt tense and worried and overall unwell. Would the boy make good of his threat? Would he 'chain' him to the house and not let him out again? The thought alone suffocated Derek but it was his wolf who decided that he had had enough. Derek wanted to go to Stiles, shake him awake, talk to him, but he didn't dare. When the wolf pressed forth, the human part didn't fight it very strong. The wolf adored Stiles, and Derek didn't have to worry changing in this house.

 

He nudged open the door Stiles had forgotten to close, and tiptoed around the bed. He didn't dare to jump on it, convinced that he would not be welcome. Instead he curled into himself next to the headboard, huddled into the corner between the bed and the bedside table. Stiles had not moved an inch, maybe the boy was overly tired, but when he flopped around, Derek realized that he was being watched.

 

"You know that this won't solve anything, you hiding behind your fur?" Stiles voice was soft again, as far from the angry hisses from this afternoon as humanly possible.

 

Derek whined lowly at the back of his throat and nudged Stiles' fingers with the tip of his nose when the boy let his arm hang out of bed, flicking the Derek's ears gently. The boy accepted the gesture and started to scratch behind Derek's ears, but he continued quietly, "I am still angry at you, and rightfully so I might add. You had no reason to scare our accountant half to death. I'm aware that you might have only ever worked for your family. Out in the streets a different set of rules apply. But Red Hood is a legit company and we are nice to our employees."

 

Looking into the slightly judging eyes of Derek, Stiles continued, "Yes, even when they do something that is not right. Look, I appreciate you trying to stand up for me, but you can't do that at the office. Do you understand that? You have to have faith in me that I can deal with everything that comes up there. Can you do that Derek? Can you trust me?"

 

For a moment Derek hesitated, before uncoiling and offering both his unprotected belly and his throat to Stiles. There were no words for the amount of faith the werewolf had in the teenager, but showing his most vulnerable parts apparently was enough. Stiles might not be a wolf, but he understood. With a gentle smile he patted the bed next to the wall and prompted, "Then come up and let's sleep. This day was too taxing for you to sleep on the floor."

 

~ * ~

 


	14. A Sense of Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what you think it means ;).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I have lost yet another betareader :(.  
> I understand, I really do, school is important, university is important, work is important too. Hell, practically EVERYTHING ELSE in life is more important than fanfiction. But slowly I start to think that my baby is cursed. I want to try and update about twice a week, otherwise this story would drag on into the next year and beyond. But sadly all of my cherished betas had real life catching up on them so here I am with my poor story, all unbetad. I hope you will enjoy it nevertheless.  
> Also, please heed the updated tags of the story. From here on it get's bloody, violent and brutal in more than one way.

 

When going over their time-tables the next morning, the twins and Scott discussing a large shipment they were expecting, Stiles looked at his tablet irritated and addressed Lydia. "Lyds, you have to chancel the negotiations on Saturday night. That's the … we don't do business this weekend, remember?"

 

Confused the redhead pushed away her bagel that looked as if sprouts were … well, sprouting from it, and picked up her own handheld-computer. "I …" she startled, looking at the meeting with the cryptic description. It was quite common that they concealed meetings with other families, dealers or other business personal they held. They rarely even wrote them down into their calendars, but she couldn't remember arranging this one, even though it had her ID. "Sure, I will cancel it."

 

And with that the matters should have been laid to rest.

 

~ * ~

 

However, when Stiles booted up his computer at work, he found the same meeting in his business calendar as well. Erasing it with a shake of his head, he decided to have Danny check the internal security, since someone seemed to put the illegal meetings into his legal planner. Someone had to mess with their system, because none of them would ever be so sloppy. And if someone tried to blackmail or expose them, well, it wouldn't be the first time they tried.

 

The situation got slightly out of hand, when during their morning review, Meredith included the mystery-meeting into her listing of Stiles appointments.

 

Shaking his head, the boy informed her, "Scrap the last one, it's the night of the full moon, we won't go out on Saturday."

 

"But you …" looking at her notebook – the girl has always preferred pen and paper over electronic devices – Meredith shook her head. "But you have to go, the meeting is important. See, I underlined it twice and bracketed it in read, and it's important. You can't just cancel it. You have to be there, everybody has to be there!"

 

Realizing that his secretary was working herself into a frenzy, Stiles rose immediately and pulled her into a hug, "It's okay Meredith. Everything is alright." He assured her while gently caressing her head.

 

"But it's not, you have to go. You can't ignore it. I wrote it down. I never write things down that are not important!" She tried to convince him, clearly agitated.

 

"Derek!" Stiles shouted, covering her ears. When the werewolf opened the door to his office, Stiles demanded in a low tone, "Get Lydia here, right now!"

 

Derek dashed towards the phone, picking up the recliner, realizing that he did not have Lydia's number. Why did Isaac have to take a look at their latest goods right now? He tried first her sure-name than her first name with the telephone system, then called up all business contacts, looking for her name. He was just crossing the reception area of the executive suit to ask for Danny's help, when the elevator opened. Ready to throw any unwelcome guests out, since they clearly had an emergency, Derek got weak in the knees with gratitude, when he saw one Lydia Martin emerging from it. His worry shot through the roof, when he realized that Aiden was following here, clearly looking concerned.

 

Ignoring Derek, Lydia approached Stiles office, closing the door behind her. Since none of the doors in this floor were see-through, the teenagers barely bothered to close them, Derek hovered outside, listening alertly.

 

~ * ~

 

Once inside, Lydia put a hand on Meredith's shoulder, whispering assurances into her ear. "It's alright. Don't worry."

 

Paired with Stiles quiet promises, "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay." The two of them finally managed to calm down the jittery girl.

 

Stiles was currently dashing out of his office, digging out a ginger ale from the fridge in their small kitchenette that was located next to the conference room, leaving the door open for Aiden and Derek to watch Lydia, who currently was on her knees in front of Meredith, showing her, her tablet. Derek could not determine why, but whatever Lydia was revealing, seemed to calm the secretary considerably.

 

When Stiles walked back in, offering the Ginger Ale, he leaned against his desk, watching the two woman. "So we have a hacker, who goes a great length to include meetings into our calendars?"

 

"No we don't," Lydia answered, turning her tablet, presenting it to Stiles. The boy blanched visibly and Derek's wolf immediately felt the need to get to him, but Aiden held him back, slightly shaking his head. "Don't intrude. If we are needed they will tell us."

 

~ * ~

 

Stiles stared at the picture of Lydia's bathroom. He was well aware that Lydia and Aiden, who not always worked the same schedule, had the tendency to write each other notes, sticking them to their bathroom mirror. At the beginning, Lydia had ranted against it, since it messed up the mirror, but after a while she had relented. Stiles knew her to have a hidden box, where she stored all the notes Aiden had ever given her. The same went for Aiden though, Stiles supposed, he would not ever admit to it, even under torture. The boy was as romantic at heart, just like his brother, but rarely allowed himself to show it.

 

The picture showed the very same mirror covered over and over in sticky-notes, all with the same message:

 

 

"Do we know what it means?" Stiles looked at the two woman he trusted never to fool him. If Meredith had worked herself up over this and Lydia had made sure that they would heed this 'date', it was important.

 

And while Lydia shrugged, Meredith straightened, looking at Stiles like he was an imbecile, "Of course, I know what it means. It's the same as with all of your meetings, who will have be there and the place you meet. I don't know who you will be meeting with, but you told me not to worry about these things."

 

"So that …" Lydia turned around her tablet, typing furiously before offering it to her friend again, "It's coordinates. Longitude and Latitude. That's in the middle of the preserve."

 

Blanching Stiles looked at the pad. "We can't go into the preserve Saturday night …"

 

"But you have to, all of you. I wrote it down, I wouldn't write it down if it was not important!" Meredith insisted, getting louder and louder with every word.

 

Quietly, Stiles looked at the appointment in his calendar, at the girls in front of him and Aiden and Derek who were still hovering at the door. "So there is only one thing E.P. can stand for." Stiles looked at Lydia, visible pale, when the redhead looked at him, taking back her computer, voicing silently, "Entire Pack."

 

With a tried sigh, Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at Derek. "Please get Danny."

 

When the werewolf vanished the remaining members of the pack looked at each other, a little at loss of what to do.

 

"We can only hope for the best," Stiles decided. "And if push comes to shove … well, he has to find out eventually. There really is nothing we can do about it."

 

"What about his family?" Aiden asked, "Do you think he will rat us out to them?"

 

Shrugging, Stiles answered, "I would like to say, no. But the truth is, I really don't know where his loyalties lie. We can only hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Please tell the others, Aiden. We have to prepare for a fight, otherwise our two banshees wouldn't insist that we are going together."

 

~ * ~

 

"You don't have to join us if you feel … uncomfortable?" Stiles had asked him, but what he had meant was if Derek felt unstable. All of them had been kind of walking on eggshells for the last two days. Even Boyd and Erica had stayed at home, though the weekends usually were high time in their business. A mistake, or a blessing in disguise, that remained to be seen.

 

When they reached the part of the woods the coordinates had indicated, Stiles enjoyed bragging about his new smart-phone and that it was way smarter than some people he knew, something that earned him a growl from the twins. They all fanned out before reaching their destination, nervous and twitching. Never before had Derek seen them so worried. But if the werewolf had to be honest with himself, he didn't feel any better. The first full moon with these kids, Derek hoped that he would be able to keep himself in check. His wolf had the irritating ability to push to the surface when he was around Stiles. Tonight that might prove disastrous.

 

But now, here, out in the open his instincts nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to run, wanted to howl and just let go. But he was not with his family any longer, so he couldn't allow himself any leniency. The teenagers had fanned out, surrounding the area with only Stiles, Erica, Isaac and Derek standing in clear sight. Something was wrong, Derek could feel it, the way they moved, the way they looked appeared vicious and the werewolf instinctively tried to find a position in front of Stiles to protect him.

 

Of course the teenager didn't allow that, instead he held his ground, when a group of about a dozen people appeared and the guy at the front pushed forth, snickering, "So you and your rascal bunch of teenagers really hope of holding this town? No wonder the Don in Frisco told us that you would be easy prey. Your father was strong little boy, but he stood up to forces far beyond your understanding."

 

Glaring at the man for daring to speak about his father, Stiles deadpanned, "How optimistic of you to assume that I do not know what I am dealing with? My father told me everything I needed to know. The towns of Central California are my territory. And if you want to see another day, you better stay clear of them!"

 

"And who is going to stop me? You with nothing but teenagers at your side and this little whore?" The guy snickered, gesturing towards Erica.

 

Derek had heard Stiles calling her a sex-worker, she had barely battered an eyelash at him, but being called a whore apparently did not sit well with Erica, because she hissed angrily and before either Stiles or Derek could stop her, she shot towards the man and slapped him so forcefully that he nearly tumbled.

 

Of course he returned the gesture with an angry, "Little bitch!" backhanding Erica, making her tumble; taking a weapon from the young man by his side, shooting her in the back.

 

Though it was an occupational hazard for people who worked the organized crime to get shot, Derek really couldn't believe his eyes when Erica broke down. Never before had he come across someone who cold blooded and ruthless shoot a woman just because she had slapped him. Yet before he could react three things happened at once, making him stop mid-motion.

 

First an ear-piercing scream sounded through the night, making everybody but Stiles covering his ears.

 

Second instead of passing out Erica raised her head. Her eyes were glowing in the brightest amber, her mouth was full of carnassial teeth and her face transformed when she threw her head back and let out a pained howl.

 

And when Derek wanted to go to her, to hold her and tell her that she was not alone, he heard an answer. But this time the howl was not weak or pained or desperate, it was powerful and all-encompassing, making the werewolf want to sink to his knees and submit to the Alpha who was coming.

 

Derek couldn't believe his eyes, when Scott stepped up to his best friend. He was fully transformed and his eyes were glowing bright red.

 

Barely a heartbeat later, Scott's howl was answered as well. Looking around Derek saw two pairs of piercing blue eyes where Ethan and Aiden were standing. And when Isaac and Boyed stepped into the clearing as well, their eyes were blazing a brilliant blue and a shining amber.

 

Derek nearly forgot how to breathe because the howl tore through his very being. This pack was strong and united and being with them made him feel like he was standing in the eye of the storm with forces surrounding him far beyond imagination. Being with his family, not even on a full moon had ever felt like this, like unity and understanding, like devotion instead of submission and boundless trust. Nobody was breathing Stiles looked at his best friend; away from the dozen men and women who stood in the middle of the clearing and ordering quietly, "Crush them."

 

It was as if this order vibrated through the pack-bond, because the moment Stiles had spoken, everybody, Derek included, charged. The fight was short and bloody but when it was over, Derek realized that he could smell a lot of blood but the hearts of all of their opponents were still beating. They were either held down by the wolves, or lay in the dirt unconscious.

 

Stiles approached their leader, looking down at the figure who had shot Erica. His voice was calm and devoid of emotion. "You should not have assumed. And you should have never, ever hurt one of my people." And with that Stiles motioned for Boyd, who had of course gone for the man who had hurt his girlfriend, to step back. The teenager went to Erica, pulling her into his lap when Stiles drew his weapon and shot the man through the head.

 

This act of brutal violence, made the rest of the conscious men and woman fight back even harder, but against werewolves they really didn't stand a chance. When Stiles approached the boy who had offered the gun used for hurting Erica, Stiles turned him around with his foot, towering over him like a Lord of Vengeance, looking down at the teenager who could not be older than sixteen. The boy tried to scramble back, but Stiles boot on his stomach held him in place. "It was your weapon Erica was injured with. I guess we can go for an 'eye for an eye' approach here."

 

The bullet had hit Erica right in the small of her back, the chances of survival were slim, despite her being a werewolf, but the chances of this boy surviving such a wound were close to none. When the head of the Stilinski family took aim, a desperate cry sounded from a woman at the side. She struggled frantically against Scott's hold, pleading through her tears, "Please, please spare him. He didn't know what else to do. This is his first mission, Marco didn't give him a chance. Please, take me in his place!"

 

"No!" the boy roared, weakly fighting against Stiles confinement. Something that earned him a repositioning of the teenagers boot, now partially constricting his airways. Still the boy fought valiantly, but he was overwhelmed by what had happened, jittery and weak so he really couldn't do anything.

 

With raised eyebrows, Stiles looked from the woman to the boy and back again. "Mistakes have consequences. He has to learn that." But Derek could see the murderous intent slowly vanishing from Stiles eyes. They all had drawn satisfaction from the leader of this group being executed, but this was a boy, someone who looked so very scared that even Derek felt inclined to beg for mercy. But he couldn't do that. He would never undermine Stiles authority in front of these strangers.

 

Fortunately the woman took the decision out of his hands by offering, "What do you want? I will do everything, everything you want, but please, please spear my brother's life!"

 

Stepping back from the boy, Stiles approached her, the others were watching, not even daring to breathe because every movement, was answered by an angry growl from the werewolf closest to them. The teenager motioned for his best friend to release her, and instantly the woman crouched down on her knees.

 

When Stiles asked, "What's your name," she answered timidly. "Marie, my name is Marie."

 

"And pray, Marie, what is your position in this gang?" the teenager inquired. "Who are you that you think you can offer me anything of value?"

 

"I'm … I was, his." The woman motioned for the dead man on the forest floor.

 

Turning her face, looking at the abrasions on her cheek and jaw, something Stiles knew Scott would never cause, he asked provokingly, "Did he just use you as a punching bag, or are you familiar with his business?"

 

"I …" the woman pressed her lips together, "I was taking care of the people walking the streets for him and I know his dealers, but he never let me do business with them."

 

When Stiles looked up, Scott blinked, just once. "What about your brother? Is he walking the streets or working with the dealers?"

 

"Neither," Marie sobbed, tears streaming out of her eyes. "This was his first assignment, because Marco decided that he wouldn't feed him if he didn't prove useful."

 

"How old is he?"

 

"He's." the woman started, swallowing heavily before answering, "He's eighteen."

 

When Scott looked at his best friend and blinked twice, Stiles used his gun to raise the woman's chin. "Don't lie to me Marie. Bad things happen to people who lie to me."

 

"He just … he just turned fifteen." She breathed wetly, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

Looking up at Scott for a moment, the two teenagers seemed to have a wordless conversation, before Stiles straightened, leaving the sobbing woman behind.

 

"So …" Stiles drew out, when he took the centre position. "You have seen nearly all that you are up against, only one member of my family with extraordinary abilities is missing." Turning his head, he seemed to fixate on someone just beneath the tree-line, holding out his hand. "Come to me."

 

Derek looked up, watching Danny approaching. He heard clothes ripping and he took a step back, realizing for the first time, how very easy the incubus had gone on him the day they had met.

 

The creature now crossing the clearing only basically resembled the teenager he knew. The incubus body was covered by midnight-blue skin that reflected the bright light of the full moon, his eyes seemed to suck out the soul of everybody he looked at. His wings were twice as large as they had been in the kitchen and for once Derek didn't have any doubt that they would carry him if he attempted to fly.

 

Two horns protruded from the top of his head. They appeared to be of matt, black bone that swallowed the light, just like the demon's eyes. His long, elegant fingers ended in vicious talon, similar to those of a cat and from the lowest part of his back a long, elegant tail with a triangular tip was emerging, twisting and turning like that of a lazy cat. Still, regardless of the frightening appearance, Danny was oozing pure desire. Derek could feel himself getting hard in his pants, just by looking at him and the demon had not even laid eyes on him.

 

He was mesmerized when Danny crouched down by Stiles' side. One of his clawed hands stabilized his position by holding on to Stile's upper leg; his tail wrapped possessively around the teenager's ankle. The demon took his time looking at each and every member of the rivalling gang that had dared to invade their territory. Derek could hear the humans gasp when the demon fixed his gaze on them. With a vicious, barely there smile, Stiles decided, "Now, I am sure that – with a little help from my pet – we can find a solution to our problem."

 

~ * ~


	15. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the clearing continues. Now you see why an incubus can be useful in a wolf-pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a beta-reader.
> 
> Actually, I found TWO beta-readers. So enjoy this chapter with the knowledge that 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene' went over all logical mistakes and pointed them out to me and 'InvalidEntry' took care of the grammar I have been abusing. 
> 
> So, without further ado, enjoy :).

 

All the humans seemed to fix the dark creature at Stiles side. The fact that the teenager carded his fingers through the incubus hair, with the demon slightly leaning into the caress, did nothing to ease the tension. After savouring their atmosphere for a few moments, Stiles decided, "From this day on we’ll take over your business since you came here, offering it so easily."

 

Looking at the men and women on the forest floor, he explained, "You, Marie, will take care that everything runs smoothly. Each and every one of you," Stiles gestured towards the other people, "will help Marie with that. You will support her in every way possible. I expect my fair share of the money, full debriefs on all business operations and weekly updates. And your little boy here," the head of the Stilinski family gestured towards the teenager, "will be our insurance."

 

"You can't," Marie cried out desperately, "You can't take him from me! He's just a kid, he hasn't even finished high school yet."

 

"Oh, I don't plan to take him from you, Marie." Stiles explained. "My pet here will make sure his loyalties are aligned just right, and then he can go with you. You will find him very eager to report to me personally."

 

Pulling back Danny's hair forcefully, something that elicited a blissful moan from the incubus, Stiles leaned down to kiss the demon. Some of the humans in the clearing gasped and some of them groaned, the sexual tension thick in the air. Everyone shivered as Danny let the tip of his tongue trail over Stiles bottom lip before detangling from the teenager.

 

He made his way over to the whimpering boy on the floor, who tried to scramble backwards, but before he could retreat, Danny grabbed his ankle, pulling him closer. The demon enfolded the both of them in his huge wings, hiding them by the unique magic he was able to conjure.

 

~ * ~

 

Though this was not the first bondman Stiles had encouraged Danny to take, it was the first one underage. And despite the incubus' urges to take what his master had offered freely, his bond with Stiles allowed him to execute some self-restraint. His master was a human being with a strong moral compass and that seeped through their bond at any given moment, so the demon was shielding himself and this new boy from view, reaching for his hands when the boy started to fight him in his terror.

 

Stiles had boosted him with their kiss, so Danny was able to retract his claws so that he would not hurt the boy. Partial transformations were the hardest for the incubus, no matter if he tried them from the human or the demonic side, but he didn't want to traumatize this teenager more than necessary.

 

"Please," the boy fought against his embrace frantically, tears in his innocent, blue eyes, "please don't hurt me."

 

Danny couldn't supress the purring chuckle, when he assured, "I'm an incubus little one, hurting you is the farthest thing from my mind." Whispering into the boys ear, trailing his nose over the outer shell, Danny promised, "I will make you feel good, really, really good and you will like it, I promise."

 

With a desperate cry that Danny's magic concealed, the boy pulled back as far as the confines of the incubus' wings allowed. Tears streamed down his face when he sobbed, "Oh my god, you are going to rape me. That's what you do, you are a sex-demon and Stilinski said that I would be your insurance. You are going to have sex with me and put a spell on me."

 

Flinching mentally, because Danny would never, ever do that to anybody, force himself on them against their will, the demon took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Usually his magic worked to his advantage; making his victims pliant and submissive, but he wouldn't, couldn't do that to a sixteen year old. Instead he concentrated hard, pulled energy from the bond with Stiles, Stiles' bond with the pack to transform back everything but his wings that still upheld the magic that protected them from prying eyes and ears.

 

Danny realized that his transformation was incomplete, he could see his skin remaining midnight blue, but his vision changed, proving that his eyes were going back to normal, his canines receded and the horns sank back into his skull. With soft, warm hands he touched the boy's face, brushed his tears away, promising him. "I won't rape you. I won't lie to you, and tell you that I won't do anything against your will, because you probably won't like it at first, but I won't rape you. You have never been with anybody, have you?"

 

When the boy shook his head, Danny assured him, "I won't take that from you, your first time being with someone you care about, but we have to get this show on the road because time is of the essence tonight. My friend is hurt badly and needs a doctor. Every moment we waste, decreases her chances."

 

"I didn't," the boy started with a hiccup, "I didn't mean to hurt her. Marco said this would be an easy job because you are all so young and inexperienced. He said we’d sneak up on you, claim your territory right from under your nose. He made it sound so easy. I thought it was stupid, but I couldn't do anything. He was always so mean, hurting Marie and the others. I didn't want to hurt your friend. I didn't want to hurt anybody. Please, you have to believe me."

 

"Shhhh," Danny soothed him, "I believe you, don't worry, but you have to understand that this is the way things are going to be from now on. Mr. Stilinski is taking over your gang and you will help him."

 

Looking at his own hands, unsure of what to do, the boy asked timidly, "What am I supposed to do?"

 

Smiling a little feral, Danny whispered into his ear, "Well, we have already established that I am an incubus, so I suggest you touch me."

 

Hesitant at first, it only took a few seconds for the boy to follow Danny's lead. That the incubus pushed low amounts of passion/pleasure/want onto him, helped a great deal, because the teenager started to follow Danny's fingers with his own when the incubus began to caress his own body, getting bolder with every moment.

 

When Danny opened his trousers, the boy needed little encouragement, staring fascinated at the incubus’s black cock which protruded proudly from his body. Their fingers intertwined, Danny needed but a few moments to reach completion, black bleeding back into his eyes, when he spilled over their joined hands and the forest floor.

 

Bringing their fingers up, Danny trailed over the back of his hand with the tip of his tongue, before offering them to the boy. Alluringly he whispered, "Taste it, just a little bit. It's like nothing you have ever had before."

 

Fascinated by the picture of their intertwined fingers, the seed slowly drooping from his skin, he took a taste, moaning when the unfamiliar flavour paired with magic hit his tongue. Greedily he took more, licked their hands clean, while Danny brushed his lips over the boys forehead, whispering ancient words of thraldom.

 

The boy sat on the floor, dazed when Danny was finished, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on the still erected cock of the incubus, subconsciously licking his lips. But before he could do anything about it, Danny let the full transformation wash over him again, pulling his trousers close, hiding his dick from the boy's view.

 

As if a spell had been broken, the teenager looked up, taking the incubus hand when he straightened. With a kind smile, Danny caressed the boy's lower lips, brushing away the lingering wetness, "You will get Stiles number from your sister. If you need anything, call. Oh, I didn't even ask: what is your name, little one?"

 

Abandoning all fear the boy stared fascinated at the fully transformed demon before he whispered timidly, "Liam … my name is Liam."

 

~ * ~

 

When looking around Danny realized that Boyd and Erica were gone, but that the remaining werewolves, with Allison beside them, were still circling the humans, keeping them in line. Marie started to sob relieved, when she found her brother unharmed, not even his shirt was crooked. Danny returned to Stiles taking position behind his master's left shoulder.

 

Offering his business card, Stiles ordered, "Go on Marie, take it and take your people back home. I trust you all know what will happen if a single one of you as much as breathes a word of what has happened here today. If there is the faintest rumour about demons and monsters in these woods we will come for you, we will come for you and we will obliterate you from the face of this earth. Are we clear?"

 

Swallowing heavily, pulling her brother behind herself when taking the card, Marie nodded, "We are clear, Mr. Stilinski."

 

"Good, now leave!"

 

~ * ~

 

As soon as the humans were out of earshot, the werewolves whipped around as one and started running. Stiles barely kept up with them, but he pushed himself until they reached the cars. Danny had transformed back, the moon barely affecting him and they jumped into Stiles' Jeep. At top speed, they drove back to town and to the clinic of a certain veterinarian who was hopefully taking care of Erica.

 

Derek felt like he was running through a dream-world. He could see Scott ahead of him, with Isaac hot on his heels. As soon as Danny had approached the kid, Stiles had gestured for Boyd to take Erica away. Derek had heard him assuring the teenager that Lydia would be ready to take them to Deaton's. Now the rest of the pack was running, pressing onwards through the woods, desperate to reach their injured pack-member.

 

They pushed themselves because of their need to be with Erica as soon as possible. Derek felt the faint thrumming through the pack-bond and his heart wished for more, more contact, a stronger connection. For now he had to be content with them running together, something he had not done in many, many moons. In New York he had locked himself in his apartment, taking sleeping pills every hour to keep his instincts at bay, but it had been horrible, a crippling feeling to not be able to run under the full moon. Now, with this pack, he felt like he was truly a part of something, a part of something bigger than himself and it was glorious.

 

When they reached the clinic they all paced in front of the barrier, and though Scott was calling for Boyd he didn't get more than a grunt for an answer. Concentrating they all realized that the air was saturated with the smell of blood, something that nearly whipped the wolves into a frenzy.

 

When Lydia emerged from the doctor's office, Scott demanded her to open the barrier, but the redhead only crossed her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head. "Sorry, but Dr. Deaton says that he can't deal with an overexcited bunch of wolves at the moment. The bullet pierced Erica's spine and he's currently trying to remove it, without causing further damage."

 

That message, however, did nothing to calm them. Scott frantically started to push against the barrier, and though Derek knew that it was useless, that no wolf, not even an Alpha, had a chance against mountain ash, the barrier wavered.

 

Scott was howling, pushing further while Lydia stepped back, ready to close the door, to protect the doctor and his patient, when a quiet command from the door pulled the Alpha back from the edge, quite literally. "Scotty, don't."

 

Whipping around the werewolf growled, but Stiles appeared unfazed when he approached his best friend. "Let him do his work. You being in there won't help."

 

When a pained cry emerged from the office, Scott whipped around, shouting at Stiles, "I could pull her pain. I am strong enough to endure it. She wouldn't have to suffer if I was with her!"

 

Reaching for his friend's shoulder, not caring about the sharp teeth that could rip off his arm in the blink of an eye, Stiles urged his friend, "But pain is good, don't you see? Pain means that she is not paralyzed. Boyd is in there with her. Answer me, from the bottom of your heart, do you really think that there is anything this boy wouldn't do for her? That he wouldn't take _all_ of her pain if it would help her?"

 

At that Scott broke, wrapped his arms around his best friend, burying his face in Stiles' neck. Scott choked distraught, "I just want her to be alright. We made it through so many full moons. I don't want the first one we spent outside with Erica to cost her, her legs."

 

Hugging his best friend tightly, Stiles assured him, "Deaton is the best there is. If there is even the slightest chance for Erica to make it out of this unharmed, he will find a way. You have to trust him."

 

With Scott soothed the entire pack calmed down. Deaton chose that very moment, to appear in the doorway, his scrubs bloody and his face worn. Looking around he nodded approvingly, before deciding, "It seems that Miss Reyes would benefit from a little more energy to heal. I'm now ready to remove the bullet without causing further harm, but the next few moments are crucial. The stronger she is the more likely it is that she will walk again."

 

Instantly, the teenagers removed their dirty shirts and pullovers washing their hands before entering the operation room. The blood was even more prominent here, but for now they all concentrated on Erica's faint heartbeat, ignoring the smell as much as possible. Boyd was sitting in a corner, his complexion grey and his eyes sunken in. Danny immediately approached him, sinking to his knees in front of the boy. Turning towards the vet briefly, Danny asked, "Will you allow him to help again if he's back at full strength?"

 

"Of course," Deaton assured the teenager, "But Mr. Boyd took as much pain from Erica as possible over the last half hour. He will need some time to regenerate, even on a full moon."

 

Looking up at his friend, Danny grinned crookedly. His energy would barely do any good in this situation, his method of energy-transfer followed another approach than mere touch. But by recharging Boyd, Danny could do his share to help Erica. Yet until now, the black teenager had never expressed any interest in the incubus. So the demon in human form, tenderly caressed the boy's cheek, asking in a whisper, "I could help you, help her. But you know what it will take."

 

"You know that I like my partners with more girl-parts, Mahealani, but I guess one kiss couldn't hurt." The teenager weakly tried to joke, before reaching for Danny's hand, confirming his consent. "Do it, please. Whatever it takes to help her."

 

"You have to let me in for it to work Boyd, you know that. Until now you never acted as if I was your type." Danny whispered, straightening slightly. As an incubus he was powerful when it came to attracting people, but giving his power away was harder. The other person had to want him, or the energy would be wasted.

 

With a tired smile, Boyd reached for Danny's face, whispering under his breath, "You're an incubus, you are everybody's type. I just want her more." Before closing the last distance, brushing a kiss over Danny's lips, before opening himself to the incubus.

 

Strongly pulling Boyd closer, Danny groaned into the kiss. He had wanted this, wanted this for so long, but had respected his friend's boundaries and never tried to seduce him. But now he could feel the low thrumming desire coursing through Boyd, and a part of Danny wished that he could offer more, more than just energy, love and affection because that's what being an incubus in this pack meant. But now was not the time for that. Now they had to concentrate on healing one of them, on healing Erica, the love of Boyd's life, so the incubus concentrated and collected most of his energy in one single breath, exhaling slowly against the boy's lips.

 

At the intake of breath, Boyd felt the incubus' energy spreading through his veins like liquid fire. Throwing his head back he roared and dove in for more. But after a few moments of passionate kissing, the boys remembered themselves and pulled back from each other. Boyd helped Danny to sit down on the chair he had just vacated and licked his lips one last time, before approaching his Alpha.

 

They all had gathered at Erica's head, Scott at the very front, putting his hands on her shoulders. Ethan and Aiden at his side, gently touching her upper arms. Isaac took her left hand and when Scott looked at Derek, nodding for him to mirroring Isaac's position, the werewolf did so gladly. He had not spent a lot of time with Erica in the past, but he desperately wanted to help. Boyd and Stiles both placed a hand on Erica's chest.

 

Looking at the pack, gathered around its’ injured member, Deaton looked up, catching Scott's eyes, "Ready?"

 

Looking at his best friend briefly, having Stiles nod at him assuring, Scott confirmed, "Ready," letting his eyes flare red, summoning all of his power. Every other werewolf in the room copied the gesture and even Stiles seemed to thrum with energy. The air was crackling when the veterinary finally dove in and, with a strong pull, removed the bullet.

 

Erica pushed up from the table fighting against her friends for a moment, before sagging back, becoming limp.

 

After a few minutes, where the veins of all werewolves on the table were running black, the tidal wave of pain seemed to lessen somewhat. After ten more minutes, Deaton looked up at the pack, assuring them warmly, "You have done all humanly possible for Miss Reyes. Now please wait outside while I disinfect the wound and stitch her up. I know that this is hard, but from now on, all we can do is wait."

 

Looking at their leaders, everybody spilled out of the room until only Stiles and Scott remained. Deaton was currently concentrated on stitching Erica up, when Stiles whispered to Scott, "Let's make her a little more receptive to our energy."

 

Looking at the emissary, aware that he wasn't particularly fond of these kind of rituals, Scott nodded and offered his hand. Taking his blade, Stiles made a shallow cut on his arm, letting a few drops of blood fall into his best friend's palm. A short incision let Scott's blood well up, combining the two.

 

Stiles took a deep breath, concentrating. He dipped the tip of his blade into their combined blood and started to draw the bind runes for energy and health onto Erica's chest, nicking her skin so that her blood would add to the mix.

 

When he was finished, Scott brushing away the remnants of blood, Deaton said, without even looking up. "If you are finished with interfering with my proceedings, Mr. Stilinski, I would suggest the two of you join your friends outside. It might take a day or two for Miss Reyes to wake up; I think it would be best for you to go home. I will have my hands full with one overbearing werewolf, who's full of demonic energy. I don't have the patience to care for the rest of your pack."

 

Dutifully the two Alpha's turned towards the door, but Stiles hesitated, "Dr. D.? Thank you, for saving of her."

 

Clipping the last thread, Deaton looked up, appearing as tired as Stiles felt. "It was a group effort, because without the help of all of you, I doubt that Miss Reyes would have survived the shock of the removal of the bullet. You two have a strong pack. You can consider yourselves lucky."

 

Exchanging a tired smiles, Scott and Stiles nodded, "We know, Dr. Deaton, believe us. We know."

 

~ * ~


	16. Roller Coaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even things that start really bad can end well. This chapter will end with a puppy pile I am sure you will enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the amazing 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene' and the brilliant 'InvalidEntry', I have yet another chapter ready for you.

 

Everybody was noticeably subdued on their drive back home. They all took out their ear-buds and headed towards the living room; subdued until the last person entered and the door slammed shut. Everybody whipped around, but it was just Aiden who stood there, his eyes glowing the brightest blue as he strode towards Stiles.

 

"This is all your fault!" the werewolf hissed. "You and your fucking 'don't shoot before they're shooting' policy! Something like this would _never_ have happened in our old pack."

 

"No, it wouldn't," Stiles agreed standing his ground against the snarling werewolf who was barely controlling his anger. "The Duke would have ripped them to pieces, just for daring to challenge him. Wouldn't he?"

 

When Derek stepped forward, his instinct to protect the human too strong, he felt Scott's hand on his chest holding him back. The Alpha's words were a mere whisper when he commanded, "Don't humiliate your Alpha, by implying that he can't deal with his own pack."

 

"But …" No, Derek didn't want to undermine Stiles authority, but every cell in his body screamed danger at the sight of his human facing a fully transformed werewolf.

 

"Then why didn't you?" Aiden roared. "We are stronger than them, stronger than anybody out there! You took us in, but you treat us like pets and don't utilize our strength! Only when there is no other choice or if one of us breaks the rules. Just because you are scared of the consequences Erica is lying on a spreader! You allowed her to be injured! All for your silly conscience of not throwing the first stone!"

 

The slap that followed echoed through the room. Not having expected the human to slap him, the werewolf staggered for a moment. Before Aiden could regain his footing, Stiles pulled his hand out of his hoodie-pocket and threw a dark powder into the air. Derek's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, when it fell into a neat circle around Aiden, trapping the wolf.

 

Standing barely outside of the barrier Stiles was the one shouting now. "How dare you? How dare you imply that I would _ever_ allow _any one_ of you to get hurt purposely?"

 

With every word Stiles' voice got louder filling first Aiden's head and then everybody else's. The power he was extruding was tangible in the air as he continued. "You and your brother, Lydia and Scott and Derek and every other member in this pack will always be my first priority! You said that this would not have happened with Deucalion. That he was stronger, but still he lost to us. You are not cowering at his feet but kneeling at mine. If you wish for it, I can break this circle Aiden and you can leave. Go back to the one who made you what you are now and forget you ever knew us!"

 

Stepping a fraction closer, glowering down at the werewolf who had fallen to his knees when Stiles had started shouting and was now clutching his head as if he could shut out Stiles' words that way. Furiously, the human asked again, "Is that what you want? Because if that's true, you can get out of my sight right this second!"

 

"No," the werewolf whimpered pathetically, looking up at Stiles tears streaming down his cheeks, "I just want Erica to be okay. I don't want to watch the people I care about get hurt or die again. I can't take it."

 

For one heartbeat nobody said anything. Derek wondered if Stiles would now just turn around and leave Aiden to his misery as the boy deserved. Nobody should challenge the Alpha and it had taken Derek's breath away of how easily this human had held his ground. But Stiles surprised him once again, kneeling down, breaking the mountain-ash barrier, pulling a shivering werewolf into his arms.

 

"I know, Aiden," he soothed the boy, stroking the teenagers head. "I don't want that either, but Deaton said Erica will be okay. We just have to wait for her to wake up." Gently scratching the boys neck, Stiles continued, "We can't walk around killing people. Being with this family is a risk Erica was willing to take but you have to decide if it's worth it for yourself. We are strong, stronger than most out there, but that doesn't mean that bad things won't happen to us."

 

"Why can't we …" Aiden started quietly, too timid to voice his question, or even complete the sentence. Still, everybody knew how it would have ended. _~Why can't we kill them first and make sure all of us stay safe?~_

 

Apparently Stiles had no trouble deciphering Aiden's question, because he gently rubbed the boys back, whispering with conviction, "For the same reason you are with us now, and no longer with Deucalion. Because though the majority of us might be werewolves, that doesn't make us monsters. So we won't start acting as such."

 

~ * ~

 

When Lydia wrapped her arms around her devastated boyfriend and guided him to their room, the others followed after a gentle nudge from Scott. Derek hovered for a little longer, but Stiles assured him, "You can go up and change as well. I promise the worst is over."

 

When the others were out of sight, Derek hovered at the edge of the staircase, watching Scott and Stiles hugging fiercely, sharing their strength before Scott left as well. Most of them had fought and were either bloody or dirty or both. But Stiles hadn't, he looked a little rumpled at the edges but took his time to collect the mountain ash again. He placed it in a zip-lock-bag he hid in his pocket before he entered the kitchen.

 

~ * ~

 

When Derek went downstairs again after showering he found the living-room empty. Stiles lingered in the kitchen looking at a sandwich he had just made. He seemed miles away with his thoughts.

 

Still, when Derek claimed a seat at the counter, Stiles cut the bread in half, reaching for a plate and another glass of milk, placing both in front of Derek. After taking the first bite, Derek asked quietly, "So … you are a wolf-pack. How long since they …?

 

"About a year and a half for Isaac, Erica and Boyd. Two years for Scott. Ethan and Aiden are born like you." Came Stiles absent-minded reply.

 

"And apart from you all of the others are werewolves?"

 

"No, Allison is an Argent and with the name comes a purpose. Melissa … I mean Mrs. McCall is completely human and Lydia … she rejected the bite."

 

"Rejected?" Derek was confused, but he recoiled when Stiles snapped at him. "Look, I know you have questions. But could we … like not do this right now? That would be really great!"

 

"I … ahm … of course." Reaching for his sandwich, Derek retreated to the living room. Most of the time, Stiles had been nice to him so Derek, and his wolf, felt a little hurt at the harsh words when they had done nothing wrong. It left them wondering why the human all of a sudden rebuffed them. Only one reason came to mind, so Derek hesitated for a moment, turning around one last time. "I … if you are worried that I will tell my mother I won't. I wouldn't betray your trust like that."

 

It was not trust, not really, and the werewolf was aware of that. Things had been revealed to him due to unfavourable circumstances. Still the pack had treated him no different now that he knew. They had pulled him into their midst and had let him help Erica. Now that he was unsupervised, he could use a computer or the landline to call his parents, Derek was sure that nobody had thought about restricting his access. Maybe security measures were in place to prevent such a thing, but until now he had never noticed any.

 

He entered the living-room, not ready to return to his room and be alone for the rest of the night, when he saw a mobile on the table. He picked it up. When unlocking it, he realized that there was not even a pin-code. A picture of Allison and Isaac smiled back at him and he realized the phone to belong to Scott. So he could call now, or write a text and delete it; nobody would monitor the mobile of the Alpha, would they? Derek stared at it for several long moments, before putting it back without so much as starting a single application, keeping in mind to tell Scott that he shouldn't leave it unprotected.

 

~ * ~

 

When Derek put Scott's phone back on the small table beside the couch, Stiles felt a hundred times worse. He had seen Scott putting it there on purpose. In an unspoken agreement, the two Alpha's of the pack had decided to give Derek a chance to prove where his loyalties lay. Of course the phone was disconnected at the moment, the message would be sent but never delivered, a clever trick Danny had come up with. Trying to call a number from it would only produce a ‘busy’ tone. One way or the other they would know. But Derek had not taken the opportunity. Now Stiles felt like an ass that he had snapped at him.

 

Not being hungry, honestly he had only made the sandwich to occupy his hands, he covered the bread with some plastic wrapper and put it in the fridge without taking a bite. Maybe Melissa would be hungry when she got home from work. The nights of the full moon always took a lot out of her. He only drowned his glass of milk before he approached Derek. Putting plate and glass aside the werewolf too seemed to have lost his appetite. Stiles sat down on the coffee-table facing Derek.

 

In a soft voice he apologized, "I should not have shouted at you. I'm worried about Erica, but that's no excuse to be rude to a member of my pack."

 

Appreciating the gesture, but registering the futility of it, Derek replied, "It's not as if I will be here for long. I'm just a substitute for four million dollars. When my mother gets the money I am out of your hair." Better to keep his status in mind. Stiles, Scott, everybody here had welcomed him so easily. But it was not as if this was a permanent home for him, sooner or later he would be made to leave again.

 

He had not even realized it at the time, but now in the absence of perfume, the barely scented toiletries, the constant touching and tactile assurances, it all made sense. The wolves had accepted him, but in the end he would never be one of them. Better not allow himself any illusions of belonging to this pack. He would only hurt more when they accept the final payment and shoved him back at his family. He would return to his life in New York and everything would be like it had been before.

 

"Is that what you hope for or what you fear?" Stiles asked, tilting his head. "I'm not a werewolf Derek, but Scotty is, and Isaac and Erica and most of the others are. I asked them how you feel, because I wanted to make sure that you know that you are welcome. They told me that you are … content. At least most of the time."

 

Reaching for Derek's hands, because the wolf had embedded his claws in the sofa, Stiles rubbed over the werewolf's wrists calmingly. The teenager was slowing his own heartbeat in the hope that Derek would concentrate on the sound. Quietly he whispered, "What do you hope for, Derek?"

 

Weakly trying to pull back his hands Derek avoided Stiles gaze determined. "It doesn't matter, I …"

 

"Derek," Stiles insisted, "What do you want?"

 

"I want to belong. I want to do things the right way and not screw up!" The werewolf admitted, hanging his head in shame. How much more pathetic could he be? He should be grateful for the chance of being temporarily accepted. Grateful that for once he did not have to stand on the outside, but … but it would hurt so much more when he ultimately had to leave again.

 

Unable to bear the werewolf's pain, Stiles slid so close that his knees bracketed Derek's who still sat on the couch and threw both arms around the werewolf's neck. Though Derek seemed to freeze at the gesture, the teenager wouldn't let himself be derailed. "You caught two bullets for me on your first evening. You scared my accountant, because you thought he was besting me. You fought with our pack tonight while protecting a wounded member. Hell you even repaired my car! My baby has not purred so sweetly since my mom drove it!"

 

Taking a deep breath, touching their foreheads, Stiles admitted to the last and most important point, "And you protected our secret. With Laura and tonight. Isaac was listening in at the museum and Scotty …" Stiles reached for Scott's phone, showing it to Derek, "The phone is unlocked, we made sure of it and still, you didn't call, or text or use any other method of communication. Ever since coming to us, you couldn't have done any better."

 

Pulling back so he could look into Stiles' eyes Derek voiced a thought that had just occurred to him, "You were testing me? With the phone?"

 

"Of course we were. We had to make sure."

 

"Would it … would it have worked?" Derek asked hesitant.

 

Gently caressing the werewolf's neck, finally managing to calm him down, Stiles asked quietly, "Is that really important?"

 

That was all the answer Derek needed, "It would not have worked. You would have never staked the safety of your pack on an element of uncertainty. You are willing to kill to protect them; you would not make such a mistake."

 

Smiling softy Stiles shook his head. "No, you are right, it would not have worked. I do everything in my power to keep my pack, my family, safe and ever since you came to us that includes you. Take it or leave it, but you are one of us now, for as long as you want."

 

Maybe it was the full moon, maybe the fight, maybe Erica getting shot and Derek draining himself with pulling her pain, but all of a sudden he was not able to fight his longing any longer. He wanted … his wolf wanted to be a part of this pack with all his heart, body and soul. With a broken whimper Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, burying his face in the teenager's chest, allowing Stiles to comfort him; allowing Stiles to caress and pet him until he didn't have to think any longer. It might have been pathetic for a man to seek comfort with a teenager, but in that moment Stiles was Derek's Alpha and the werewolf had not felt so wanted in a very long time.

 

When sleep claimed them, Stiles arranged them on the couch, throwing away the cushions from the back so that they had enough room to lie beside each other. Derek had his head on Stiles' chest, arms wrapped around the teenager, even in his sleep.

 

When the others tiptoed down the stairs, Stiles forced himself to smile at them. Derek did not even flinch when Isaac and Scott dipped the couch back a fraction to pull out the extendible part. The couch-table was relocated for the time being and the loveseat and the armchair were extended as well so that there was one, gigantic surface for all of them to sleep on.

 

Right next to Stiles, Scott, Allison and Isaac lay wrapped around each other on the remaining part of the sofa and a part of the love-seat. What was left of the smaller couch was claimed by Ethan and Danny while Lydia and Aiden lay at their heads, as close to Stiles and Scott as possible.

 

Danny was the little spoon to Ethan's big one, his fingers intertwined with Isaac's. Aiden shifted restlessly for a while, until Stiles reached for his hand, soothingly rubbing over the teenager's wrist like he had done with Derek before. Ashamed Aiden couldn't meet his eyes for quite a while before whispering as quiet as possible, "I'm sorry."

 

"I know, Aiden." Stiles assured him. "It's okay for you to speak your mind at least when we are at home, but if you wolf out on me one more time I will leave you in the circle until morning and I won't make it big enough for you to sit down. Are we clear?"

 

"Yes, Alpha." Aiden whispered, finally closing his eyes.

 

~ * ~

 

When everybody was asleep, Scott turned around, facing his best friend, who still lay awake. "You feel Erica's pull?"

 

Nodding diminutive, Stiles asked, "You do too?"

 

"Yes, it's strong and steady. She will make it; she just has to sleep and heal."

 

When Stiles forced himself to smile, Scott whispered, "You did well today, with Aiden I mean."

 

"I hate doing this, threatening a member of our pack, to reinforce my position."

 

Smirking slightly, Scott breathed out, "You said so yourself when I was bitten, wolves are like children: they need rules to feel safe when they grow into their powers. I distinctively remembering you hitting me with lacrosse balls whenever I threatened to change."

 

Nodding quietly, Stiles mumbled after a while, looking down at the sleeping werewolf in his arms. "We have to tell them eventually."

 

"Let it be his decision," Scott whispered, once more demonstrating the unique ability to follow Stiles' erratic leaps of mind. "Talia said that she would get the money and ask Derek back. Let it be his choice if he wants to stay with us or them. If he chooses us, we will reveal ourselves so Mrs. Hale doesn't have to worry about her son's safety."

 

Sarcastically Stiles mumbled, "She gave him away Scotty, not the best way of showing that she cares."

 

"She's his mother Stiles. I am sure she does. Maybe we can extend an invitation for other members of her pack; I'm sure they are not all happy."

 

"Are you thinking about Laura or Peter? Because let me tell you, both are assholes when it comes to work." Stiles exhaled tiredly. They all had been worried when Laura had been sent off, she was no member of their family but most people in Beacon Hills had known the friendly and courteous teenager.

 

She had been changed upon her return and not for the better. When it came to Peter … Peter was blood and no matter the lives they had created for themselves a tiny part of most wolves in the house were still linked to him. Linked to someone who seemed in constant agony day in and day out.

 

"Yes," was Scott's unhelpful answer, but Stiles was able to understand.

 

~ * ~


	17. The Stilinski-McCall Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life with a pack of teenage werewolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the help of the marvellous 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene' and the adorable 'InvalidEntry', another chapter for your convenience.  
> Three updates in a week. Are you all sufficiently impressed?

Derek woke in the early hours of the morning to someone squeezed herself between him and the backrest of the couch. At first he was dazed, instinctively defensive, but when hands gently stroke his arm, pulling a blanket closer around his shoulders, he realized that Mrs. McCall had returned from work.

He closed his eyes, perfectly relaxed and comfortable until he realized the novelty of the feeling. Looking up again, he noticed Scott's mother snuggled into the sofa at his back, Stiles having his arms around him, Scott, Allison and Isaac lying just beside them on the extended couch.

He could see Danny snoring quietly, looking devastatingly attractive even when drooling on the cushions, with Ethan wrapped around him from behind. When he raised his head a little he could see Aiden clinging to Stiles hand, with his other arm pulling Lydia as close as possible. It was incredibly pleasant and for the first time in forever, Derek felt content.

~ * ~

The sun had already risen when Derek woke again, this time to a needy whine. Instantly awake, the pack raised their heads and looked at the lounge. Erica, wearing nothing but Boyd's oversized shirt and scrubs, was gazing at them longingly and clinging to her boyfriend who steadied her.

Tears welled up in her eyes when she looked at Stiles and Scott, whispering brokenly, "I'm sorry, I am so very sorry. I didn't mean to wolf out, but the pain was too much. Please," she sobbed, "please, don't punish me."

Sharing a flabbergasted look with Scott, Stiles made grabby hands at her, assuring the distressed teenager, " Of course not. Come here, Princess."

Tentatively Erica approached them, toeing off her shoes and crawling up towards her Alphas. Brushing away her tears, Stiles kissed her forehead and assured her, "No one is going to punish you. It wasn't your fault. It's okay Erica, just relax and heal, everything is going to be alright."

Looking at Scott who mirrored Stiles gesture by nodding at her, Erica finally sank into the Scott's arms. She huddled into his chest like Derek had done with Stiles earlier. There was a little rearranging, the humans moving away so that the werewolves could get as close to the wounded wolf as possible. Stiles plastered himself to Erica's back, finally managing to calm her down, pulling Derek to his own back and moving the werewolf's hand around himself so that he could touch Erica as well.

Every wolf in the pack shifted, so that they could touch their wounded member. To accommodate Erica between Scott and himself, Stiles shifted a little, using Derek's arm as a pillow since the werewolf was now spooning him from behind to make room. It was starting to get really crowded, but not even Melissa at his back seemed to mind to be squished a little. They all were too happy to have Erica home again.

~ * ~

Once he had made sure that his girlfriend was taken care off, Boyd dragged his feet upstairs and took a long and nearly scorching shower to wash the night away. When he came down again, all of the wolves had dozed off again. Danny however, scooted back a little to make room between Ethan and himself, opening his arms invitingly. Smiling tiredly, Boyd took the invitation and allowed the incubus to hug him from behind. Revelling in the steady and painless breaths of his girl, Boyd whispered after a while, "Thank you, for … for helping me helping her."

"Hey," Danny's breathe caressed Boyd's ear and for once the teenager didn't pull back. "That's what family is for." Boyd hadn't had the best experiences in that regard and they both knew it. His parents had been cold and uncaring at best, neglectful at the worst of times. It had taken a lot of time and effort to trust this pack. But now …

"Maybe you are even Erica's type. I will ask her when she feels better." The black wolf whispered, snuggling deeper into Danny's embrace.

Supressing a shiver of want, Danny took a deep breath before enveloping Boyd tighter, whispering quietly, "I would like that."

Looking over his shoulder, stealing one, chaste kiss, Boyd smiled, "I think I would too."

~ * ~

They slept far past lunchtime, and when Derek woke up for the third time, he heard Melissa, Stiles and Lydia chatting in the kitchen. All the wolves still lay splayed out on the couch, instinctively reaching for Erica to help her heal. Though when Derek touched her skin, he noticed that she barely felt any pain, a slight discomfort at best.

When Derek rose drowsily and padded towards the kitchen he saw Lydia cutting about a million oranges and feeding them to a machine that squeezed them. Stiles was currently stirring a jar of honey he pulled out of the microwave and Mrs. McCall was cutting mushrooms in half. Mrs. McCall was arranging them next to juicy tomatoes on a baking tray that was lined with rows upon rows of bacon. When Stiles noticed Derek he approached him and hugged him tilting his head to the side so that the werewolf could bury his face in his neck. For a few moments the wolf savoured the smell of his Alpha, before the boy pulled back, "Go, brush your teeth and then you can help us."

Without thinking twice Derek went upstairs. Only when he was looking at himself in the mirror, toothpaste foaming out of his mouth, did he realize that Stiles had just allowed him to scent him as if that was the most natural thing in the world. Derek spit out the toothpaste and clung onto the washbasin for dear life. He had not even thought about it and had taken the invitation, assuring himself of his Alpha before following his direction.

That was bad, that was very, very bad, because if Derek's wolf had already accepted Stiles as his Alpha, returning to New York would be like walking into purgatory. He had lost his family once when he had left for the first time, not allowing himself to cling because he had not felt like he deserved it. But losing an Alpha for the second time, one that made him feel cherished and cared for … Derek was not sure if he could make it. The thought of never seeing Stiles, Scott, this pack again, made him feel like he was drowning.

Sharp claws scratched his neck pulling him out of his mind and back to reality. The first thing he heard was Scott's firm command, "Breathe Derek, it's alright, everything is alright, and you are safe. Just breathe with me."

Scott's eyes were red and Derek's blue drowned in them, drinking in the strength of this Alpha, using it to anchor himself.

Scott stirred him towards the edge of the bathtub and crouched down before Derek. "You want to tell me what this was about? Your heartbeat shoot through the roof all of a sudden."

"I don't …" Derek started, desperately searching for words to communicate his terrifying epiphany, "I don't know what to do."

Gently caressing his neck, calming the werewolf, Scott asked, "What do you mean? What are you supposed to do? Derek, what's wrong?"

"I will … when my mother brings you the money … when you make the exchange … I don't know … New York is … and you're here …" Stammering nonsense, Derek couldn't meet Scott's eyes. If his mother paid Stiles he would have to go; there really was no other way. Talia would expect him to return to them, but Derek … he didn't know if he wanted that any longer. Didn't know how he could live with his family and abandon this pack. The mere idea …

Smiling kindly, Scott put their foreheads together. "Stiles allowed your mother to reserve the right to make an offer, remember?"

Miserably Derek nodded.

Scott however was smiling impishly when he whispered, "But Stiles never promised to accept it. He can reject it outright without any kind of explanation. It will be up to you Derek; Stiles and I have already agreed on this. It will be your decision if you want to stay with us or return to your family. So whatever it is you are freaking out about, take your time and think about it because you have options now."

Too scared to hope, Derek asked hesitantly, "The Stilinski-McCall-pack?"

"Exactly," Scott assured him, before pulling him to his feet. "And now let's get down before we lose all say in what is to be served in our full-moon-feast."

Smiling timidly, Derek stated, "Your pack is really weird."

Apparently Scott was taking that as a compliment, "That we are and rather proud of it."

~ * ~

Before they could reach the stairs, Derek held Scott back one last time. "What did … what did Erica mean, by not wanting to be punished?"

Sighing slightly, looking down at the living-room where the twins were putting the furniture back in place, Scott turned back towards Derek. "We have lived in secret for a very long time Derek. The world of the supernatural is not kind, especially not to teenagers and after accepting Isaac and then Erica and Boyd as members of our pack, Stiles and I discussed the need for secrecy. We have one law in this pack, one law that stands above all others."

"Keep Stiles safe?" Derek pondered.

But Scott shook his head. "Keep _all of us_ safe, by protecting our secret. As long as people see us as nothing more than a bunch of teenagers they don't perceive us as a threat. Bad things come to Beacon Hills and most of the time your mother is handling them. We … take care of the rest, as inconspicuously as possible."

"What would happen? If a member of the pack would have revealed you all willingly and not by accident like Erica had done yesterday?"

"We would send him away." Scott disclosed, knowing that Derek was able to understand the severity of this sentence. "We send them away without their respective partners for an unspecified amount of time. It has only happened once before and I think the message has sunken in. We don't do corporal punishment. We find penalties that fit the crime and until now it has always worked."

Nodding Derek followed Scott downstairs and entered the kitchen, where he was offered a bowl of fruits to be cut for a fruit salad. While he worked every member of the pack passed him by, stealing snippets of fruit, trailing fingers through his hair, or touching his back. With every touch, Derek relaxed more and more. Their scents were mingling and Derek's wolf revelled in the tactile assurance of finally being pack.

The 'full-moon-feast' was glorious and when looking around to see everybody helping, despite most of them still being in their pyjamas, Derek realized that he might not be able to turn away from this.

But in the end it would be the decision of his mother and Stiles so Derek could only hope for the best.

~ * ~

Now that Derek knew their secret the wolves and the incubus did not try to hide their true natures any longer; their strength and dexterity constantly on display. When teasing each other they flashed their eyes or bared their teeth. The wolves even made a point on nipping at their partners' skin, marking them to stake their claim. The werewolves and Danny healed easily, but Allison and Lydia kept shoving them away giggling when the sharp teeth scratched their necks.

For the first time, the werewolf realized how very much these kids had held back around him for the last few weeks. When everybody was finished and the dishes had been cleaned and put away, Scott ordered all of them into the back-yard for a little training session. It would be nothing more than fooling around, but they all followed his command like overeager puppies.

After separating them in different groups a kind of group-brawl began. Surprisingly Stiles and Allison joined them. The humans were doing pretty well. Though neither Stiles nor Allison were matching the wolves in speed or strength, they managed to avoid their attacks and use their own strength and instincts against them. After a few minutes, Derek pulled back, watching the different members of the pack fight. When Mrs. McCall appeared beside him, offering a glass of juice, he saw her playing with a small red ball, throwing the toy into the air before aiming it at the back of her son's head.

Without any trouble, Scott turned around at the last second, catching it. Nodding at his mother, he threw the ball at Stiles who wacked it away with the baseball bat he used as a weapon. Scott shouted over at him, "The colour of the sky?"

Grinning, Stiles answered without looking up, "Grey"

Aiden was the one who jumped to catch ball, aiming it back at Stiles who deflected it once again, "Best baseball team in the world?"

"New York, Mets" Stiles shouted, hitting the ball into Isaac's direction.

"Atomic number of gold?"

"80"

"Best car in the world?"

"Ferrari Testarossa"

"Square-root of pie?"

"1,5"

"Chemical formula of Heroin?"

"CH2COO"

"But that's … that's not right." Derek chipped in.

But instead of correcting him, Mrs. McCall chuckled and stated drily, "Really. After everything you have learned about him, do you really think that the best car in Stiles' mind is anything but the beat-up blue Jeep of his mother?"

Looking from Mrs. McCall back to Stiles, _listening_ for the first time, Derek realized that, despite giving wrong answers, Stiles heartbeat was dead steady, albeit a little elevated from training. No matter the question, the werewolf noticed that the boy not once told the truth. Only when Scott asked, "Man of the year?" and Stiles answered, "John Stilinski" the exercise stopped.

Scott approached his best friend, putting his hands on Stiles' shoulders, stating quietly, "Your heart blipped on the last one. Come on Stiles, tell me a lie and make me believe it."

Taking a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, Stiles grinned sheepishly and declared, "You, Scott McCall are the love of my life and I lie awake at night, thinking about your lean body and gorgeous eyes." Before leaning over to kiss his best friend right on the lips.

As soon as Stiles pulled back both boys made 'yuck' and wiped their mouths, laughing when Scott put his arms around Stiles, dragging him back towards the house.

Stiles stopped before entering, letting the others pass to shower, when Derek stated flabbergasted, "You're lying."

With a calculating gaze Stiles looked at Derek. "The woods around my town are crawling with wolves. The area I own has more supernatural creatures in it than the rest of America, thanks to that cursed tree in the woods. Of course I lie. We wouldn't survive otherwise."

~ * ~


	18. Club Salvatore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you know where this is going? Derek isn't, but he will figure it out eventually ;).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the untiring help of 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene' and 'InvalidEntry' there is yet another chapter for you.  
> I apologize for the bland stealing of names. I guess it's right what they say: If you can't make it up on your own, at least try to steal it right. Or something like that ;).

The next evening after dinner, the pack didn't return to the living-room or the home-cinema, instead they walked upstairs vanishing, as one, into their respective rooms. When Derek looked questioningly at Melissa, she only smiled, "It's the Sunday after the full moon; they always go clubbing. If you don't want to be left behind I suggest that you shower and change as well."

The nurse grinned when Derek dashed upstairs apparently not wanting to be left behind. She reached for a book determined to enjoy the one night, every month, where she didn't have to worry about her kids getting hurt; they were at a place that couldn't be any safer for them. Especially considering the nature of the club they were going to.

~ * ~

Derek was entering the room with a pair of dark slacks and a black button-down in hand when Stiles emerged from the bathroom. There were lingering drops of water on the small of the younger man’s back, glittering in the moonlight that shone through the window, when Stiles opened his wardrobe and started rummaging through it. The werewolf's breath hitched. The desire, to approach, to claim, was overwhelming. He only realized that Stiles had stopped moving when he felt the teenager's eyes on him.

With a calculating gaze Stiles merely raised his eyebrows looking from Derek to his naked back and back at the werewolf again. The wolf practically fled from the room panting when the bathroom door closed behind him. He wrote off his sudden, overwhelming desire to the influence of the full moon. He had just realized that Stiles was his Alpha; it was only natural for his wolf to want being near him, to touch him, wrap around him, to taste his skin, and his … Shaking his head Derek entered the shower, but the cold water did very little to cool him down.

When Derek returned from the bathroom, Stiles was lounging on the only chair of the room with, Allison, who wore … was that a skirt or a very broad belt? … kneeling between his legs and applying something glittering to his eyelids and cheeks. Stiles wore dark-blue jeans that were tattered at the knees, letting his white skin shine through, and a form-fitting shirt with the Captain America shield on it. When he noticed Derek, he gestured towards the clothes the werewolf had chosen. "You don't plan on wearing this tonight, are you?"

"I … ahm … Mrs. McCall said that you all were going to a club and I thought I could come along." Derek stammered a little only to be dragged out of the room by a scandalized Allison. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, you would stand out like a sheep in a wolf's den with those clothes. Come on, Lydia told me about a pair of black jeans and undershirts that were – quote 'tight enough that they seemed to be painted on' quote end. _That's_ what you are going to wear!"

~ * ~

Twenty minutes later, the teenagers entered the garage and shuffled into different cars. Scott rode his beloved bike with Allison in her short skirt and high leather-boots behind him. Isaac went with Danny and Ethan following right behind the couple. Erica and Boyd squeezed into Stiles jeep with Derek riding shotgun. Lydia and Aiden, with Aiden holding open the passenger door for her, took Lydia’s gorgeous little sports car. The dress-theme of the evening seemed to contain a lot of skin showing under tight-fitting clothes. They all looked pretty dressed up with their hair slicked back and various parts of their faces enhanced with glitter. Danny was the only exception because his clothes were barely out of the ordinary; His eyes, however, were framed with black eyeliner and his lips were painted red, kiss proof of course. Grinning, Danny offered Derek a taste when he caught the werewolf had staring at his lips.

Spilling into the club Derek immediately noticed the clean air and the moderate music. It was loud and noise filled every last corner of the club, but it was not deafening like it would be in most establishments. Apparently, there must also be a no-smoking rule because the ventilation was barely noticeable yet still the air was free of pollution apart from the sweat and perfume of the guests. There had been a long line at the door, but, as expected, Stiles passed it ignoring all the bystanders as he passed by. A man, massive as a tree-trunk, who apparently had made it his mission in life to frighten potential guests away – not that it worked as very few people actually left without being asked to do so twice – nearly smiled when Stiles approached him.

He touched Stiles fist with his own, before stepping aside, allowing them all in. He gave Derek a suspicious look, but when Stiles smiled at him openly and put his arm around Derek's waist, he let them pass without comment. Derek didn't know if he was pleased or irritated that Stiles didn't let go when they walked down the broad stairway that led to the main-floor of the club. For a moment, everybody seemed to stop and stare and Stiles tightened his arm possessively around Derek’s waist. The moment was gone before Derek could enjoy the contact and the boy relaxed a little passing the dance-floor to approach the bar.

None of the chairs were occupied; a young lady was actually shooed away from one right that moment, leaving the chairs free. Stiles didn't seem to care about the barkeeper's opinion, he turned around, his back to the bar and sat in the stool right in the middle, within a moment, a drink was put behind him.

When a drink, he hadn't even ordered, was offered to him as well Derek turned around looking at the black napkin it had been placed upon. He smiled when discovering that the only decoration on it was a single red drop … like blood. Grinning he picked it up, discovering it to be a gin and tonic, slightly laced with wolfsbane. It was enough for him to feel an effect, but not enough to be impaired. Looking around at the classic decoration he finally got it, "Club Salvatore, as in the Vampire Diaries. Interesting scheme."

He whipped around in surprise when he heard Stiles whooping loudly and high-fiving Scott before both held out their hand to the twins. When Stiles noticed the werewolf's confused glance he pocketed a note before smiling brightly. "You totally saved my ass. I had utter faith in you to get the connection, but our twins here didn't believe in you. You just won me a bet."

Grinning, both amused and a slightly embarrassed that he had been the subject of a gamble, Derek asked, "How much did you win?"

"Ten bucks."

"Ten bucks? You made a bet worth only ten bucks?"

Scott, grinning, explained while Stiles made eye-contact with a gorgeous blonde. "All our bets are either for ten dollars or chores like dishes and such."

When Derek raised his eyebrows, Scott smiled, "We are family Derek we don't need to pull money out of each other's pockets."

"Peter would have," Derek mumbled.

"Yea, well, Peter is an asshole." Scott shot back. Before Derek could call him on the strange comment about a person Scott most likely had never met a petite black girl appeared in front of the Alpha and offered her hand. With a smile towards Stiles, who nodded briefly, Scott slid from his stool to follow her to the dance-floor.

The same happened with the others in. Lydia seemed to be the only one who played hard to get, but when a gorgeous lady, with perfectly groomed white-blonde hair and an impeccably manicured fingers, offered her hand Lydia took it smiling most charmed. Danny had a bedazzling red-head approached him he kissed her hand but shook his head. Instead of taking her offer he pointed at a boy who could not be older than sixteen standing in a corner looking at the crowd with big emerald-green eyes. It seemed as if he didn't dare to mingle; a challenge for the incubus who decided, "I want him."

"He's new, Danny. I'm not sure if he …" But Danny cut her off, with a charming kiss to her neck, whispering into her ear, "I think I will manage."

Derek was not surprised when the red-head disappeared looking a little heartfelt as soon as she realized that she couldn't convince the pretty boy to follow her to the dance floor. The boy, however, seemed to need a little encouragement to approach Danny. The incubus, however, sat at the bar, sipped his drink and smiled at him, letting him take his time.

~ * ~

"A new pet?"

"A new pack-member. Honestly Katerina show a little respect." Stiles grinned, holding the breath-taking woman who had picked him up, leading their dance despite her attempts to do so.

With a sly smile the woman shook her head, "Says the boy who collects wolves. Honestly Stiles, a few more and you can open an animal shelter. Why don't you find more like him?" She gestured towards the incubus, "He is gorgeous and good enough to eat."

Stiles grinned, dipping her, before twirling with her over the dance-floor. The music was subdued enough to allow such interludes. Seductively he whispered into her ear, "Beware my Lady, I could become jealous if you started to prefer Danny over me."

Smiling, the blonde answered, "I could never prefer anyone over you, Stiles Stilinski. Your parents helped me to create something for myself when I came here. The Stilinski's were and always will be my favourite family."

Laughing amused, Stiles answered, "But Danny is a member of my family too."

"He's not blood."

Sobering Stiles shook his head, "No, in everything except blood, but that makes him no less cherished."

"Like this new wolf?" She gestured towards Derek, who sat at the bar, fending off unwanted suitors; he was dealing with a particularly persistent one at the moment. Noticing how Stiles eyes narrowed when he watched the scene, she reminded him, "If you want to claim him for yourself you have to do so. An arm around his waist won't scare them off for long; he doesn't smell of you strong enough to keep them off."

Snorting, Stiles hissed angrily, "What do you suggest I do then Katerina? Do you expect me to bite him? In case it escaped your notice I'm not a vampire!"

"No, you are not, but we are." She reminded him. "If you draw his blood they will know that he's off limits."

Stiles gave her a calculating look before putting a hand in his pocket and blindly typed out a one-word message.

~ * ~

Derek had sat at the bar watching the pack entertaining themselves. It was nice the music was not too loud, the air was not too thick, and the drink he had been given was not too strong. When he felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket he immediately checked it. He looked up in confusion since the message, #Sorry# from Stiles, didn't make any sense.

He flinched back against the bar when, out of the blue, Stiles appeared before him crowding his personal space and shocking Derek with a kiss. He expected the human to pull back and wipe his mouth like he had done with Scott. He expected him to laugh and reveal that that this was a prank, or maybe a dare, instead of something Stiles really wanted. But the teenager remained, brushing his lips over Derek's until – despite knowing so much better – the werewolf yielded and returned the kiss.

Claws emerged from his fingertips when he put them on Stiles' hips pulling the boy closer. He offered his unprotected neck to Stiles who, when he pulled back, peppered kisses over his jaw and neck, up to his ear. When the teenager's teeth dug into his earlobe, drawing blood, Derek barely had time to swallow the whine that threatened to escape him. But he couldn't control his body, it seemed to have a will on his own, arching into Stiles, rubbing his pelvis against the teenager's slim hip.

Derek chased Stiles' body when the teenager pulled back; Stiles putting a proprietary grip around his neck, making the werewolf's breath hitch. His eyes darted towards the man who had approached Derek before who was now watching the two of them with apparent fascination. Stiles voice was low, but no less determined, when he promised, "You touch him and I will rip your heart out, are we clear?"

Swallowing dryly the guy nodded and vanished into the crowd. As soon as the spectacle was over, the blonde woman appeared beside them Offering her hand to a dazed Derek she introduced herself, "Hi, sweet-thing, I am Katerina. Welcome to Club Salvatore."

"I'm …" Derek croaked out, taking a sip from the drink Stiles offered, before trying again, "Hi, I'm Derek."

Smiling the woman nodded, "I know. You have not been in here since High School when you sneaked in with your uncle Peter. I'm glad to have you back." She said leaning down to kiss Derek's cheek, leaving a mark of blood-red lipstick behind, before reaching for Stiles hand and pulling him back towards the dance-floor.

The music had just gotten a little louder when Derek drowned the first drink; he was immediately offered another. He quickly emptied that one as well. Now free of unwanted advances, due to Stiles little demonstration, Derek scratched his ear where Stiles had bitten him. He looked at his fingers in surprise when he felt blood. He must have been too overwhelmed to notice how hard the teenager had bitten him. Not that he minded, he had enjoyed it, he might enjoy everything Stiles could do to him. But as he watched Stiles dancing with the gorgeous blonde Derek shook the thought out of his head. Of course it had been nothing but a demonstration. Stiles had even apologized for it in advance.

~ * ~

Midnight was close at hand when a particularly slow song played. Derek watched the teenagers pulling their respective dance-partners closer. He was a little surprised to see that they had not switched partners once; the person asking them to dance had stayed with them for the last hour. The air started to buzz with a strange kind of energy. People returned to their booths and tables leaving the dance-floor for the pack and their partners.

When Derek saw the first tooth reflecting in the light he tried to jump out of his seat, but an iron-fist closed around his bicep stopping him from moving forward. Turning around he saw the barkeeper holding him back. He struggled, growled menacingly, but the man only opened his mouth, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth. "Don't, pup. Your Alphas know what they are doing."

Derek couldn't help but struggle when he turned around again, searching for Stiles who stood on the middle of the dance-floor with a woman in his arms that now barely looked human. Her eyes were shining a supernatural white and her teeth reflected the light that illuminated the centre of the club. Stiles, however, didn't pull back, didn't run or fight. He just dug his teeth into the woman's bottom lip, making her grin grow wider, before tilting his head to the side allowing her to drive her razor sharp teeth into his skin.

Derek looked around frantically as every non-werewolf member of the pack was used as a food-source. Allison had a woman and a man biting her neck from two sides. Lydia had her arms around the necks of two girls and Danny was holding up the young boy, pulling him snuggly against his body, allowing him to drink freely. The werewolves however were offering their hands, their fingers, and the vampires pierced the skin with a single tooth before lapping up the few drops of blood that welled up before the small incision healed.

Derek had learned about the power of blood at a very young age. He had heard all the nightmares of wolves and vampires being arch-enemies; the blood of one destroying the other. He had believed these stories to be fairy tales, but from the way the vampires reverently lapped at the tiny wounds they were allowed to inflict on the werewolves these stories seemed wildly exaggerated. Derek's gaze returned to Stiles who was just now tilting his head to the other side allowing Katerina to place a bloody kiss on his neck. He tenderly brushed away a drop of blood that was lingering on her chin, allowing her to draw his thumb into her mouth, licking it clean.

Smiling, as if this was the most natural thing to happen when clubbing, the two of them returned to the bar, the vampire helping the human boy onto his stool. Downing a glass of coke, Stiles grinned at Derek, "You know, I like you better with your mouth closed, gorgeous."

~ * ~


	19. Victims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are different ways to deal with persistent vampires. Danny executes one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to start this chapter with an Author's note. Truth to be told, this story had started to get away with me ever since chapter 10. Things I have planned developed in a different way. My Muse pets and cuddles these blot bunnies before offering them to me. I like the way the story is going and I have fun writing it.
> 
> However, I once again want to point out something: Stiles is the Don of the family. He holds all the power in this family and everybody else who comes to his home is prepared to accepted that. There are things people are not told, still they roll with them, even when they don't understand because that's the price they have to pay.  
> Stiles points out what he deems important for the physical well-being of his family. He considers their emotional well-being as well, but that is not as important to him. He can be considered cold and uncaring and though I think most of the time he does a pretty good job in taking care of them, he can be lacking in his emotional support.
> 
> I know that this is untypical for the 'Stiles' character of the canon, but you have to brace yourself, because that won't change. This child was brought up to make hard and fast choices that result in the survival of himself and his family. Everything else is secondary to him, even the profit.  
> Call him a cold bastard and there are times where he is exactly that. But please accept him for that, because otherwise you won't have fun as this story continues.
> 
> I understand completely if some of you are driven away by that clarification. As for the rest of you: I hope you will enjoy yet another chapter.

As it turned out, there was an agreement between the vampires and the Stilinski-McCall-pack. Since Stiles' parents had helped Katerina when she had started her business, she had agreed to continue paying them her regular due. Since a vampire needed sustenance Stiles had agreed to feed them, once a month, after the passing of his father. Stiles didn't know the nature of the arrangement previously between the leader of the coven and his late father, but there had been no problems with the vampires since Stiles had taken over, proving that the current agreement worked.

Soon it became clear why the bouncer at the door had rejected so many potential guests. As the evening progressed the guests loosened up more and more. Derek saw sharp canines and blood-red or blazing white eyes catching each other. The wolves too let go a little and when one of the other guests reached for Erica Derek saw Boyd, his eyes flashing, growl a warning.

When Derek used the bathroom, a little while later, he nearly fell over when he found Danny holding up the vampire who had bothered Derek until Stiles had put an end to it, against the mirror, and was fucking into him.

The vampires eyes were slowly filling with blood, giving him a near-demonic appearance, but Danny was still holding back. Well, not with the sex but with the revealing of his true nature, his appearance still purely human.

Derek was about to leave when Danny turned his head flashing him a predatory smile. Apparently the incubus enjoyed his company and since the werewolf was not sure who had the upper hand in this interaction, he stayed. Still he tried to look everywhere but at Danny and his latest conquest even when the vampire leered, "Alexander said that you taste delicious, don't you want to let me take a sip? I …"

"Not if you want me to continue fucking you." Danny interrupted him crudely, pulling him higher on the counter, driving into him with force. Apparently the vampire enjoyed that action more because he was arching back, presenting his neck.

His voice was hoarse when he agreed, "Yes … yes I want that. Come on, don't hold back, I can take it."

Derek was honestly not sure if it was a good idea to challenge an incubus when it came to sex. Danny seemed to be able to read his thoughts, because he looked up from his prey, catching Derek's eyes, slowly letting the change wash over him. The vampire seemed to appreciate the new energy Danny was putting into their encounter because he was losing himself further and further into the passionate haze that the demon was inducing.

He seemed ready to peak, but seemed to hit a plateau, clawing at Danny, urging him on. The incubus however seemed unfazed. Derek had seen him making out with Ethan, hell he had seen him blow Stiles, and the boy had really been into that, but now he seemed cold and nearly detached from the act of carnal pleasure. The vampire was pushed back against the mirror, arching into the motion, bloody tears of frustration leaking from the eyes he had squeezed shut for the last few minutes.

Danny, now a beautiful shimmering blue-black with eyes like endless voids, reached for the vampire's hair forcing his attention on him. The vampire flinched back, when he became aware of Danny's transformation, despite being still connected to the demon, but the incubus had him locked against the counter. Scrambling madly he hissed, "What the hell are you?"

Enforcing his position, Danny pushed into him vigorously, before grazing the vampire's neck with his teeth, turning his head towards Derek so that he would have better access.

Had he not been a werewolf and on high alert, Derek would have missed the purring words Danny whispered into the vampire's ear, "Hell's close enough, but see this is not about _what_ I am. Rather it is about _who_ I am. I am a member of Stiles' pack as is Derek over there." Fucking into the vampire once again forcing him to stay close to the peak where the man could do nothing but tremble under the incubus administrations, he continued, "Derek belongs to Stiles, at least until my master says that he can be approached by any of you. And if I see you one more time within a ten foot radius of him, I will rip you apart. Are we clear?"

"Yes … yes, oh God, we are clear!" The vampire sobbed helpless against the powers of the incubus. Danny dug his teeth into the vampire's neck, drawing blood, finally allowing the undead man to climax. He did not kiss him, but from the looks of it Danny was drinking every last tremor of passion he could pull from the vampire.

When the incubus let go the vampire slid to the floor, boneless and weak from the encounter with the demon, but Danny didn't show the slightest concern. He kicked him slightly, and demanded, "Pack yourself away and leave before I start thinking about going down on you and believe me, you won't like that." Baring razor-sharp teeth, Danny looked down menacingly causing the vampire to scramble out of the room while hastily closing his trousers.

~ * ~

Danny slowly changed back, cleaning himself with a bunch of paper-towels, unfazed that Derek was still watching. Derek noticed that he still was hard and slowly approached the incubus. He should be frightened, especially considering what had happened the last time Danny had needed sex, but after seeing the incubus defend him he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid of the demon. Not wanting a member of the pack to be uncomfortable because he had looked after him, he asked hesitantly, "You didn't … do you want my help with that?"

How weird had Derek's life become that he was offering to bring off an incubus, in the restroom, of a club full of vampires? At the same time, Danny had clearly gone a great length to fend off Derek's unwanted suitor. So it only seemed fair that he …

Smiling at the wolf Danny turned around; his cock barely tucked away still lean and hard in the confines of his leather trousers. His voice was part seductive, part amused, when he asked, "Because you want to or because you think you owe me?"

Confused about the question, Derek shrugged, "Well you defended me so …"

Closing his trousers, pulling down his shirt, Danny stepped closer to Derek. Danny tenderly carded his fingers through the werewolf's hair enjoying it tremendously that the wolf didn't pull back. "I did it because you didn't want him to come on to you. I did it because Stiles wants you safe. I did it because you are pack now and that's what this family does; we have each other's backs. Would you have acted any different if you had seen me struggling with an unwanted suitor?"

"You rarely have unwanted suitors," Derek piped up, but he ducked his head and nodded. "No, I wouldn't." After admitting that Derek leaned forward and pressed a chase kiss to the corner of Danny's mouth only to have the incubus mock him, "I defend your honour, like your very own prince charming, and all I get is a kiss to the corner of my mouth?"

Chuckling lowly at the obvious teasing Derek touched his own lips before gesturing towards the demon. "Well, you have vampire blood there and I'm not really into that."

Looking into the mirror and wiping away the blood he had not noticed on his dark skin Danny turned around bestowing a full-fledged smile to Derek and offering his lips. But Derek reached for the incubus hand, bowing deeply, pressing a kiss on the back of it. "Thank you for defending my honour, my Lord."

Rolling his eyes, Danny pulled Derek up and into a hug. "You are welcome. But now, I will leave you alone to relieve yourself while I go find Ethan so that he can relieve me." With a wink Danny patted Derek on the back, leaving the bathroom.

~ * ~

When Derek returned to his stool at the bar he saw Ethan lift Danny up and carry him up the stairs. When Derek looked after them, Stiles paused his lively discussion with the bartender on the nutritional value of blood – apparently a repeating argument – to explain with a grin, "There are several private rooms upstairs for the staff to … you know, feed. When we are here Katerina is inclined to make exceptions, allowing Danny to use them, since she doesn't want him to occupy the men's room all the time."

"Then why did he …?" Derek asked confused, since he had found the incubus exactly there.

"Why did he what?" Stiles had fully turned towards him now abandoning his conversation with the bartender in favour of concentrating on a pack-member.

"I just found him in the bathroom … ahm …" Derek stammered, ears growing hotter by the minute.

Confused Stiles looked up, "Why would he …? Who was the lucky girl or boy that made our incubus happy?"

Since secrecy was obviously not an issue tonight, Derek explained, "He didn't make him 'happy'. Danny more or less took a bite out of the vampire who hit on me before."

"Oh, that …," Stiles nodded, "When the demon decides to punish someone it lasts barely more than five minutes. No big deal."

A thought occurred to Derek, hesitantly he asked, not being sure how he really was feeling about the whole affair. "Did you order him to do it?"

"Fuck someone? No, I'd never do that. I might be the incubus's master, but Danny decides for himself who is worth his time and who isn't. But I can tell, with draining someone before, Ethan and Danny won't be down here any time soon. You want to dance?" Stiles asked sliding from his stool and offering his hand.

Giving into the eagerness of his wolf, Derek took Stiles hand and the next two hours were a haze of spiked drinks, music and Stiles close to him. When they finally left Derek was a little dazed; boy these vampires knew their mixtures, music, and dancing. He had noticed Katerina offering a thick envelope to Stiles and the teenager accepting before shaking her hand.

When they all spilled back into the house, the pairs started kissing in the hallway, tumbling onto the sofa in the living room or making out on their way up the stairs. Stiles chuckled when readjusting himself and looked at Danny. "You've had a good time?"

"The best," the incubus confirmed kissing his boyfriend soundly.

Clapping on the demon's back, Stiles advised him, "Still, you may want to tone it down a notch. We still have to go to work tomorrow."

Smiling sheepishly Danny nodded and then dashed upstairs Ethan quickly scrambling after him.

~ * ~

Derek lay in his own bed after having thoroughly showered. They had only about four hours before they had to rise again and that was with a calculated delay. He only realized that he had not shut the door when he heard Stiles breath speeding up from the room over; now that he was attuned to Stiles, he could easily sense the teenager on the other side of the wall.

It was evident that Danny's 'good night' was affecting all inhabitants of the house, and since nearly all of them had a partner, or in Scott's case two, they enjoyed the boost. Stiles didn't seem to care either, from the sound of it, because he was having a lot of fun with himself. Derek's cock rose in his sleep-pants and when he heard Stiles' breath hitch once again the werewolf had to push his hand against it not to cum on the spot.

The thought alone, of Stiles laying splayed out on his big mattress, wet hair plastered to his head, a tangled mess as he writhed on his pillow, left his breath hitching in his throat. His mind supplied him with images of long, elegant fingers wrapped around a lean cock, caressing it, slowly, teasingly at first, picking up speed over time, making his resistance crumble. Derek could not help himself; he started mirroring the movement copying what he was convinced that Stiles was doing next door.

Derek could hear Stiles clenching his teeth to remain silent when his orgasm washed over him and Derek's body was perfectly in tune with his Alpha's. He had been on edge all evening, ever since the incubus had touched him after the encounter with the vampire. But now that he thought about it, his desire had started to rise sooner; it had started the moment Stiles had claimed him in front of everybody. Remembering the kiss, Stiles digging his teeth into Derek's earlobe, drawing blood, marking him for the world to see, was what pushed Derek over the edge. His whole body started to shudder with the strength of his orgasm leaving him dizzy and trembling as he touched the long stripes of cum that now painted his chest.

Clumsily he reached for the tissues on his nightstand, cleaning himself, but since he had only a small garbage bin he sentenced himself to the fact that he would smell himself until morning. He was just grateful that Stiles would never know what Derek had been doing. Though knowing Stiles and what was going on in this house he might have a very good idea, but he didn't know that he had been the star of Derek's fantasy.

When Derek was finally lying under the covers, the tremors in his body long since gone, his mind unhelpfully returned to the possessive kiss. Even though it had taken him by surprise, he could remember every last detail: the way Stiles had smelled and tasted, the way his lips had felt on Derek's skin, and the teasing touch of his tongue when he had lapped up the blood he had drawn. It was all Derek had always wanted and more, but it had not been Stiles. Not really. It had been his Alpha, protecting him from unwanted advances, nothing more.

Derek tried to figure out exactly how Katerina's coven had been able to fly under his mother's radar for so long, but it might be the same reason Talia didn't know about these teenagers being wolves; by them being extraordinarily careful. Great, now his thoughts were back on the pack and it's Alphas who did everything in their power to protect every last member. That was the only motivation behind the kiss, Derek reminded himself, an attempt to protect the newest member of the pack.

The wolf wrapped tighter into his blanked and turned towards the window, biting back a sob. Derek wanted the protection; he wanted it with all his heart because the way these teenagers acted made him feel like he was worth their effort not just someone who screwed up on a regular basis, despite him doing it (with the jeep for example or with the accountant), even here.

But Derek's wolf and Derek himself wanted more. They wanted Stiles to choose them because he wanted them and for no other reason. They wanted Stiles to kiss them and touch them and not because of some weird incubus-power but because he liked them.

Brushing away angry tears Derek forcefully shook his head. The thought alone was ridiculous. Derek was not something Stiles would ever want; he was a substitute for money and though the teenager had acted quite decent towards him until now, what did Derek have to offer? Danny was an incubus and Ethan was a werewolf with a great fighting stance and an insight into the organized crime that was only rivalled by his brother Aiden's. Lydia was a banshee and an honest-to-god genius. Erica was sexy as hell and she and Boyd had a firm grip on all the hookers and callboys that worked for the Stilinski family. And Scott, Isaac and Allison: an enforcer, a hunter and a true Alpha, each bending to Stiles every whim.

This pack might be made up of a bunch of misfit teenagers with but one adult. Even so, each and every member had something unique to offer, even Melissa who was a nurse and could care for them in cases of emergency. Everybody, except Derek. Derek was good with numbers but Danny and Lydia were better. Derek was a good fighter but he had seen the twins and Scott and there was no way he could compete with them. Derek was loyal and had taken bullets for Stiles on his very first evening, but he was not Isaac who Stiles seemed to trust blindly. He was … nothing… nothing but a screw-up. He was only good enough to be a substitute for money. Valuable enough to be protected. But Derek didn't want protection; he craved love, the love he saw shining in Isaac's eyes when he watched Scott or touched Allison, or the love Aiden only allowed himself to show for Lydia when he thought that nobody was watching. The love that had compelled Boyd kiss another male just to gather enough energy to help Erica in any way he could.

~ * ~

The werewolf, lost in his thoughts, had not heard Stiles entering his room and startled when a soft hand touched his shoulder. He became suddenly aware of how he must look with his clogged up nose, hoarse breathing, and the wet fabric he was clutching to his chest, saturated with tears. Instead of Stiles asking what was wrong the teenager placed something heavy on his nightstand and nudged Derek's pillow to the edge of the bed so that he could place his own behind it. The boy did not speak when he slid into the bed, plastering himself to Derek's back, pulling the blanket over the both of them and wrapping them in.

Derek waited, breathless, trying to pull himself together when Stiles placed a hand over his heart and pulled him closer. Derek thought the boy would ask, as he always asks when he finds Derek in distress, but after a while the teenager only whispered, "It's alright, Derek. Everything is alright. I will stay with you. I swear, in here, you are absolutely safe."

Stiles didn't get it. He thought Derek was overly anxious because of the vampires, Danny, or whatever else had happened tonight. Or maybe assumed Derek thought the vampires really could be a threat, to both to the city and Derek's family, to every werewolf in a two-hundred mile radius, but Derek didn't worry about that. This clan of undead had lived in Beacon Hills for the last fifty years without drawing attention to themselves. He doubted that they would cause commotion now.

But maybe Stiles not getting it was not such a bad thing if he thought the werewolf concerned he would stay with him again, like he was staying with him now. Maybe Derek would not have to admit his feelings, not even to himself, and could enjoy this, whatever this was, until he was sent back to his family.

Snuggling deeper into the embrace he was finally able to calm down and close his eyes. Morning would come soon enough.

~ * ~


	20. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're shedding a little more light on the extended family of the pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that 'Genim' is the general consensus on Stiles real name in fanfiction. But honestly, that's not that hard to spell so I was looking for a first name in Polish that would make it being shortened to Stiles somewhat reasonable. I decided to go with Szczesny Stilinski.  
> I'm just telling you because that information might be important in the following chapter ;).
> 
> As always I want to use this chance to thank my beta 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene'. Sadly 'InvalidEntry' couldn't take her time with this chapter and her finishing touches are lacking. Still my good wishes go out to her, since she is not well at the moment. I hope you will enjoy this chapter nevertheless.
> 
> Edit: But John's name was not 'Stilinski' in my world. That was Claudia's name. Since John's family was not happy with the girl he had chosen he took her name upon the wedding. I updated the chapter to include that information.

Barely decipherable whispers woke Derek and when he inhaled deeply he could smell Scott in the room. Stiles however didn't change his breathing, only his hand tightening on Derek's chest indicated that the boy had already woken. What happened next was a flash of movement and Scott's breath hitched at the end of it.

When Derek dared to turn around slowly, because Stiles' vice grip around his chest had eased, he found the Alpha-wolf crouching next to the bed, a gun pressed to his temple. Stiles seemed to take a second or two to come to terms with what was happening, and groaned when he secured the weapon and fell back into the sheets. "Damn, Scotty," he admonished his best friend, "You of all people should know better than to sneak up on me in here."

Seemingly undisturbed by having a gun put to his head, Scott told his best friend, "Yes, but it's past eight and we have to be at work at nine-thirty the latest because Isaac tells me that you have an appointment with a new shipping company. You left your phone in the other room."

"Crap," Stiles mumbled, pushing himself out of bed, taking the weapon with him when padding out of the room.

Once his best friend was gone, Scott took a shaky breath and leaned against the wall.

Tentatively Derek asked, "Do you … are you alright?"

Grimacing, Scott answered, "I'm not a huge fan of having a weapon put at my head if that's what you mean. But I'm okay. Stiles is right, his reaction didn't come as a surprise."

Slowly pulling himself into a sitting position, Derek looked at the Alpha questioningly.

Looking after his best friend, Scott shrugged as if deciding if he should share this particular piece of information before he explained. "Maybe you noticed our reluctance of putting you in here. This room was off limits ever since the Sheriff died. What do you know about the death of Stiles mother?"

Shrugging, Derek admitted, "Not much. She was killed by a rivalling gang and John, I mean the Sheriff went crazy on them, caused a bloodbath that killed the entire family."

Rolling his eyes, Scott chuckled, "Well he didn't kill the entire gang. He killed the leaders but he was pretty brutal about it. The biggest thing they found of the guy who killed Stiles' mum was a torn off leg. … But back to the topic at hand. After Claudia, I mean Mrs. Stilinski was killed, Stiles had it pretty bad. He got anxious and clung to his father. When he was at school he could barely make it through the day without a panic attack. Allison and I had our hands full with keeping him safe. At night he couldn't sleep, waking several times crying out from nightmares."

Trailing his fingers through his hair, Scott looked around. "There were attacks in retaliation of what the Sheriff had done. They attacked the family, John, even Stiles. Things got from bad to worse and John decided that he and Stiles would go crazy, if they didn't manage to at least a good night's sleep."

Gesturing towards the door, Scott continued, "At first this was a pretty big closet but the Sheriff installed a bullet-proof door. It might look like wood but there is a core of steel that is connected to the hinges and the lock. This room has one entrance and with the window one exit. Underneath the window there are bushes to dampen a potential fall.

"When the Stilinskis started sleeping here, the furniture was but a bed and a nightstand for John's weapon. John slept wrapped around Stiles and the one time an intruder actually managed to pick the lock, John shot him before he could even make two steps into the room. This was always the Stilinskis' sanctum, the safest place in this entire house. It was kind of a big deal for us that Stiles wanted you to sleep in here, because after his father's death hosted a few of John's most prized possessions. Pictures of the three of them, memories of happier times, stuff that might mean nothing to a potential thief but the world to Stiles."

"Then why …" Derek really didn't know what to say. The mere idea that he could be worth more to Stiles than the memories of his family were … honestly it made no sense, because to his knowledge Stiles had not even met him before accepting Derek instead of the debt his mother owed him.

Putting a hand on the werewolf's shoulder, Scott answered the implied question with a smile, "Because my brother is aware that people are worth more than memories. Accepting you instead of the money was not a very popular decision. We received threats that indicated that Stiles wouldn't make it long in this business if he thought more with his cock than with his brain. A boy-toy shouldn't be chosen over four million dollars."

Derek interrupted the Alpha without even thinking about it. "But Stiles … he never touched me, at least not without a situation calling for it."

Shaking his head, Scott reminded Derek, "No, but he gave you a job so that you can earn your keep. In my opinion that was the better decision, since all of our sources told us that Talia simply didn't have the money to pay us."

"You knew that right from the beginning?" Derek wondered.

"Of course we did. We were just wondering what she would come up with. We expected Laura because … well giving her away instead of money was not exactly unprecedented with your mother. We were ready to reject her, to give your mother more time. But when you were offered, you and the collar, Stiles had to take the deal, because …"

"Because what?" Derek croaked when Scott trailed off. They could have given his mother more time but they had taken him. Was he worth more? Less? Why had Stiles taken his mother up on a deal he had not wanted to make in the first place?

Crouching down, before Derek, Scott urged the werewolf to look at him. "If Stiles had rejected you, your mother would have been honour-bound to make the money as fast as possible. The last time she had to pay back a debt she had hired out Laura for six months and that was only for a million. She wouldn't do that to your sister again, so who is the next in line to make your mother real money?”

The Alpha continued, "She had already started negotiations with a pack in San Francisco. If they had accepted, who do you think would she have sent there?"

Dread pooling in his stomach, Derek thought about the only pack he knew to hold that town and the surrounding area. Deucalion was known to be brutal, ruthless and sadistic. Even as a substitute pack-member Derek would have … well it would not have been easy. Deucalion would have demanded absolute submission, would have broken him if he offered anything but his utter devotion.

"He had …" Derek shivered slightly, instinctively leaning into the warm hand that still lay on his shoulder. "Stiles saved me from them."

"We don't know," Scott admitted. "In our business sometimes you have to rely on rumours and speculations. But Stiles wouldn't risk it, not with you." Straightening, the teenager nudged Derek. "Stiles is finished with his shower. Go and then we can squeeze in a quick breakfast before you head to the office."

~ * ~

At the same time in Poland:

"What does he want?"

"He sent a list, in addition to the usual product he wants as many logs of a rowan-tree as we can get him, a dozen seedlings of monkshood but not the common kind, he wants Trailing White Monkshood and Northern Blue Monkshood, as well as a half a dozen packs of European Mistletoe seed from a local vendor.

"What the hell, Mistletoe and Wolfsbane are a common plant. They are available all over America, why doesn't he want those common in his area?"

"I don't know, but his requests were very specific."

"I'll talk to the boss."

~ * ~

A soft knock made a lady with white hair lower her reading glasses and looking up from her computer. "Come in." Though pleasant her voice had a hard edge to it. Her eyes were full of disapproval when one of her men – who should be outside, stocking the goods for America – entered her room.

"Radoslaw, what's the matter? Is there a problem with the shipping?"

Respectfully the dark-haired man lowered his eyes, offering a list to the matriarch of the family. "I'm sorry matka chrzestna, but … well … we were just wondering about the goods America requested."

Raising her eyebrows, the lady took the list and looked over it. "His demands increased by another three percent and there is nothing overly uncommon on this list. Tell me, did Szczesny pay his last delivery upon arrival?"

"Yes, mam."

"Did he send the correct dues according to his sales?"

"Yes, mam."

Giving back the sheets of paper, the woman looked at the man standing before her. She had been a great beauty once, and even now, past sixty she had something that captured the eye. Her chocolate-coloured eyes burned through those of her subordinate when she ordered, "In that case, I would suggest you see that his demands are met. He may not be able to maintain the same growth rate for the business John had established since my daughter died, but he is holding his ground. As long as he is selling we are supplying. _Whatever_ he demands. Are we clear?"

"Yes, matka chrzestna. Sorry to have bothered you."

~ * ~

Lucyna Stilinski leaned back in her chair, thinking about the requests her grandson had made. She had not been in America since her daughter's death. She had disapproved when Claudia had told her about her desire to marry an American she had met during her studies in Berkley. But in the end she had wanted her daughter to be happy, and Claudia had convinced her, that – with a little help – it might even be an advantage if they managed to established a base of operations in America.

John had … well to say he had been reluctant when he had met Claudia's family would be an understatement. He had been scared and rightfully so, but in the end, he had to make the choice of supporting Claudia or walking away. His own family had made their position quite clear what they thought about Claudia. They had even threatened to disown him should he marry her. In the end he had decided in favour of Claudia, even renouncing his own name and taking her's to make a clean break between his past and their future. Lucyna and her beloved husband had appreciated his commitment and had given them their blessings. They had never regretted it until the day her grandson had called, hysteric and in tears, telling them that his mummy had been shot dead and that his daddy was bleeding on the kitchen floor.

Lucyna had been on the next plane to America, but not before calling in favours to support her son-in-law and grandson. She had stayed with the family for a month, helping them to organize the funeral and take care of her little Szczesny, until John got on his feet again. He might have needed more time after executing his revenge – something the matriarch of the Stilinski family had whole heartedly approved of – but thirty days after her arrival she had dragged him out of bed and practically threw him into Stiles’ room where the boy had been in the clutches of his third panic attack that day because he thought that his daddy didn't love him anymore, since he was barely talking to him since his mother had died.

John had never expressed any form of gratitude for her intervention, but he had sent her letters and pictures, copies of tests his son had aced and a group shot of Szczesny with a puppy-eyed boy and a woman with curly, black hair hugging them both. John had held out the camera to get a chance to be in the picture himself and they all had been smiling. They had looked like a family and though it pained Lucyna that her daughter could not be with her men any longer, the joy in her grandson and her son-in-law's face, had nearly been enough to make up for that.

A problem with a rivalling crime-family that tried to barge into the territory the Stilinskis' had held for the last century had kept her from attending John's funeral and when the turf-war was over, she was surprised that the reports and account books had started coming again. There had been slight irregularities at the beginning, but after three months everything had been in perfect order. She had even received revised accountant books for the first two months and the missing payments had been made without anybody asking for them.

Questioning her sources, she had discovered that after Claudia and John's death, their son had taken over. She had not had any clue of how an eighteen year old teenager managed to keep an organization like theirs running, but after six months the sales were at an all-time high and apart from his slightly unusual requests, she had not heard a word out of the ordinary from her grandson.

Making a decision she called out, "Zena?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stilinski?" Her secretary looked up from her computer - really that woman was worth her weight in gold and loyal to a fault.

"How fast can you book me a flight to San Francisco?"

After hearing the tap of a few key-strokes, the woman answered, "Keeping your meeting with the Petrov-family and the dinner with the mayor at the end of the week in mind, I would say Sunday morning, so you would land Sunday evening with a three hour stop in Munich."

"Please take care of everything."

"Certainly, Mrs. Stilinski. Do you want me to book a return-flight as well?"

Pondering over the question, the elderly woman decided, "No, I will call you on short notice."

"Yes, Mrs. Stilinski. I have the reports from the eastern suppliers ready, do you want to see them?"

"Not right now, remind me again in an hour." The woman decided. No matter what she had said to her staff, her grandson had indeed made a few very unusual requests, so she decided to look into the properties of the special brands of Monkshood and Rowan-tree before returning her thoughts back to business.

~ * ~

The week after the full moon was quite calm. Derek had established a shaky working relationship with Mr. Bale and after discussing a new account for internal expenses he rode back up to the executive suit after lunch on Thursday. Serving Meredith and Isaac coffee because he knew that Stiles' personal assistants enjoyed some after their lunch, he was surprised when Scott exited the lift, looking jittery and nervous.

Forcing himself to smile, Scott asked if Stiles was available since the door to his office was closed. A rare occasion, since neither Stiles nor Danny usually bothered to close their doors. Isaac shook his head. "He's talking with Poland and doesn't want to be disturbed."

Nervously Scott nodded and started pacing in the lobby. Derek exchanged a confused look with Isaac and Meredith. Both shrugged, unsure if they should intervene. After a minute of watching the Alpha, Isaac rose and stepped into Scott's path, opening his arms so that he could hug his boyfriend. For a moment the dark-haired teenager sunk into the embrace before shaking his head, stepping back, resuming his agitated walk.

After a few more minutes, where they pondered on how to calm Scott, Stiles opened the door to his office. He needed but a moment to take in his frazzled friend. Wordlessly he opened the door wider and invited Scott in. Derek, Isaac and Meredith returned to their work when the door closed behind the two Alphas.

~ * ~

After taking a calming breath, Scott revealed, "My dad is coming to town. Danny spoke to Perish, half an hour ago. He will be here at the end of the week."

Groaning Stiles sank against his desk, trailing his fingers through his hair, messing it up then whispering, "Nana will arrive Sunday evening."

"Your grandmother?"

"Yes"

"The head of the Stilinski crime family?"

"Yes"

"Crap"

"Oh, yes." Stiles exhaled. "I take it your dad won't come for a social visit?"

Pressing his lips together, Scott shook his head. "No, they have new clues regarding our business. He's here for you Stiles. He knew about your father but never had enough evidence to convict him. Now that John is dead, well … they want to find proof on whoever took over the family."

"Crap"

Stiles and Scott sank into the soft cushions of the couch, spreading out their legs, looking at the floor. Stiles' grandmother was very proud of her family and had a firm grip on most officers of the law in her region. Scott's father might have been an alcoholic who had abandoned his wife and kid, but he still was an FBI-Agent. All in all, the worst combination possible, apart from the introductory visit of Deucalion last year - therefore Stiles and Scott were at loss of what to do.

"We have to tell the pack." Stiles exhaled tiredly. "We will find a way to get through this, but only if everybody knows what's going on and can act accordingly."

Swallowing heavily, closing his eyes before looking at his Don, Scott whispered, "I don't want him to get hurt, Stiles. He might be an asshole but he's my father after all."

Struggling into an upright position, Stiles looked at his best friend. "What are you implying?"

"You did … we have …" Scott started, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. "We have a way of dealing with people who endanger our family, our pack. We usually make sure that they get no chance to endanger us twice."

"Scott, oh my god …" Scrambling so that he could pull his best friend into his arms, Stiles assured him, "He's your father! I would never do that to you. We will find a solution, even with my grandmother around. I promise, no one will hurt him. Alright?"

Holding on to his best friend, Scott nodded, "Yes, I … it's not as if I like him. What he did to me and mum that was not ok but …"

"It's okay, I understand," Stiles assured him, before pulling back. "Get the others, talk to our dealers, tell Danny to talk to Parish so that he knows we're prepared. Tell our people to lay low for now. We already collected the big fines for the month. We will just have to wait and see how long he will stay."

"Alright," Scott said when standing up. "See you in the evening."

~ * ~

In the evening it became apparent that Scott and Stiles had worked themselves up over nothing because, as Lydia pointed out, they were doing a pretty good job in covering their tracks anyway.

The Red Hood Trading Company was a legitimate business Stiles had officially inherited after his father's death. They had gone a great lengths to keep their books clean. And the not so legitimate stuff? They were always careful, none but the people working for them could tie them to their illegal operations and no one would dare rat them out, they had made sure of that, either by bribery or by threatening them.

So they really had nothing to do but to continue business as usually, only reducing their 'hands-on' approach when there were problems. And surely some of their associates could be commissioned to do that for them. If the need arose.

So both Alphas were considerably calmer in the evening, when watching TV. But still Derek felt a new kind of tension in Stiles when he sat on the floor beside him, doodling on a piece of paper, a particular intricate design that would look great on the hood of Stiles' Jeep. After having taken care of Stiles' car, Derek had realized how much he missed it working with his hands.

When they went to bed that night, Derek didn't think twice about going to bed with Stiles. The boy didn't mention it, but when Derek put his arms around him, the tension slowly started to ease out of him. After a while the boy told him quietly, "She's my mother's mother. Dad's parents were … well, they were not approving of what my father had done with is life. The last time I saw her was after … after my mum died. She's the head of our family and dad always told me that she was to be respected, that she deserved my loyalty. But when he died she did not even come. I wonder what makes her interested in visiting now."

"Maybe she just wants to see her grandson?" Derek offered as a possible explanation.

"Maybe" Stiles agreed. "But I think we will find out exactly the moment she wants us to. Because if we are secretive about our work, my Nana is a box with seven seals and she won't break a single one until she is ready."

~ * ~

 


	21. Nana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tremble in awe how Stiles' grandmother sweeps her grandson - and the rest of the pack - off their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the tireless 'Wecantgiggleatcrimescenes' here is another chapter for your convenience.

When push came to shove, shove came to tumble. In addition to the visit of Stiles' grandmother and Scott's father, the annual ball of … well … very important people was due. Officially it was nothing but another social event down in San Francisco. Unofficially all the major players of organized crime in the general region of California made a habit of attending.

Stiles had accompanied his father once, armed both with blade and gun, though John usually preferred to appear as inconspicuous as possible. But since the Stilinski family had held the territory of central California for more than twenty years there was always a chance that someone might try to slip in an unwise attempt to increase his own influence by taking out a major players on the board.

The Sheriff had been well respected, but only because he didn't allow any leniency. After Claudia's death any threat was met with viciousness and determination. People who plotted against them rarely survived until their plans could be executed. Nothing had happened during the ball, but still, John had felt better knowing his son able to defend himself.

This year Stiles had not even received an invitation. Though that was an affront in itself, he and Scott had decided to attend nevertheless. Lydia had taken care of the arrangements, keeping their lodging as secret as possible, and the wardrobe prepared. Derek's inclusion into their family had taken her a little by surprise, but their tailor had promised to deliver the required tuxedo in time.

~ * ~

Sunday evening, Scott and Stiles were on their way of picking up Stiles' grandmother from the airport. As expected she left the plane as one of the first passengers; the privilege of flying first class. Stiles and Lucyna hugged while Scott was taking care of her luggage.

With a smile she pulled back, taking in her grandsons grown form. Photos were never a good substitute for meeting face to face, her boy looked even more handsome in person than he had in the pictures. "Szczesny, you look good, very much like your father when he was your age."

"Nana," Stiles whined. "Please, call me Stiles. Nobody calls me Szczesny!"

Taken aback, the elderly woman shook Stiles a little "It is a strong, good name your mother chose for you. Why can't you accept that? It stands for luck, joy and happiness. Are you willing to renounce these blessings, young man?"

Rubbing his face, because really, they have had this argument for as long as Stiles could remember, the teenager groaned, "No, but because nobody can say it!"

When Scott returned with the luggage, the woman turned towards him. "Scott, tell my grandson that he should start using his own name. It is an honourable and strong name, so he should very well wear it!"

Grinning, Scott hugged the woman as well. "I'm afraid I can't do that Nana Stilinski, because nobody but you can spell it. It would lead to all kinds of confusion just like the first time you used it in front of me."

Scott and Stiles had been barely six years old, a friendship that had developed in the sandbox in kindergarten, as strong as it could be after going through the first year of elementary school together. Since Scott's mother had worked most days, the boy had spent the majority of his time in the Stilinski home. Despite the dangers of their business, John and Claudia had always taken good care of him. When Lucyna had visited and addressed Stiles with his god given name, the little boy had been confused and corrected her with a serious look on his face, telling her that a grandmother should know that her grandson was called Stiles and not Sez… Sechs… the other word!

When finally understanding that Szczesny actually was Stiles name, Scott had laughed for nearly an hour, very much to the despair of his best friend. It had needed several, sincere apologies, a toy-car and the promise of sharing his pudding for a week, for Stiles to forgive him. And despite Scott being able to spell Stiles real name perfectly fine, thanks to Stiles’ Nana, Scott had never again used it since that day.

~ * ~

During their ride home, things had mostly been all business. Since they could not be overheard in the luxurious car, the matriarch of the Stilinski family had requested a brief overview over the Company and his latest deals. Knowing his organization by heart, he shared everything his grandmother wanted to know, having been taught that if there was one person who deserved to know, it was his mother's mother.

When he was finished, Lucyna offered her sincere condolences for Stiles loss. Finally allowing the conversation to reach a personal level, Stiles dared to ask, "You didn’t come after dad's death. I managed to deal with everything by myself and now, that I finally have things under control, you visit. Why Nana? Have I done something wrong? Don't you trust me to continue the legacy of my parents?"

Shaking her head, the woman gently touched her grandsons arm. "No, Stiles. I have received your reports, your books, your payment and when it comes to work you have everything under control, I know that."

"Then why are you here?"

"When the time is right I will tell you."

Groaning frustrated Stiles closed his eyes. It was like he had said to Derek: his grandmother always played with her cards tight to her chest. She wouldn't tell him anything until she was good and ready.

"Szczesny."

When the teenager's mouth tightened with displeasure, she corrected herself gently, "Stiles … my reasons might be my own, but I can tell you one thing now: I did not come because I don't have faith in your abilities. Your parents taught you well and during the last six months you proved that you are both capable and trustworthy.

"We received the revised books two months ago, along with the missing payment and I am aware of how hard it is to lead an organization of this size. I don't blame you for making a mistake. You corrected it and that's enough to trust you. The reason why I didn't come after your father's death was not reluctance on my part, but serious problems in Europe tied me to Poland.

"I would have liked nothing more than to board a plane the moment I heard about the attack on your father, but business demanded my undivided attention."

Quietly Stiles looked out of the window before whispering, "Family should always come first. That's what my parents taught me."

Turning him around, the woman nodded, "There are times, most times when it is possible to put family first. But sometimes business demands your entire attention. You have to sort your priorities young Don, otherwise people will make your greatest strength your greatest weakness."

Closing his eyes, Stiles pressed his lips together before admitting, "I am barely nineteen, people have a hard time accepting me to follow in my father's footsteps. I know about the importance of prioritizing, but I needed you, to help me take over business after dad was killed."

Shaking her head with a proud smile, Lucyna decided, "No Stiles, you didn't needed me, you were able to take over the family all by yourself, you have proven that conclusively."

~ * ~

When they reached the house, Scott brought up the suitcase and bag, storing them in the room of Stiles' parents. They had talked about this beforehand. When Stiles' grandmother had visited the last time, she had occupied one of the guest rooms. But now more inhabitants lived in the house so no rooms were free. Stiles had pondered on giving up his own, but that would have meant relocating Derek as well and he didn't want that. Therefore there had only been one room available and to be honest, there really was only one person Stiles would ever allow in there: is grandmother.

Having known about Allison and Scott beforehand, they had moved in long before John's death – an attack on Melissa had made the McCalls move in with the Stilinskis to keep them safe – she had brought gifts for them. Allison received a beautiful set of silver throwing knives, artistically engraved and sharp like a razor and Scott got a silver dagger because, as Nana Stilinski stated, it was only fitting for a young man to be armed inconspicuously.

"They are so light" Allison remarked, when twirling the blades around her fingers.

"They are only alloyed with silver. The material may have it's uses, but it's too soft to make a good weapon," the woman explained.

Scott flinched back when touching the blade of his own weapon. The shaft had been wrapped in the softest black leather, but the blade reflected the light like a mirror. Upon realizing that the weapons were truly made of silver and not a highly polished steel, a part of the werewolves took a discreet step back. A normal human would not even have noticed it, but Lucyna Stilinski was everything _but_ normal.

She had been about to reveal the gifts she had brought for her grandson but stopped in her tracks, looking at the teenagers in the room one by one, her eyes lingering a little on Derek before the man lowered his eyes, and turned towards Stiles in the end. Her voice was even when she asked, "Are all members of your family werewolves?"

When Stiles croaked out a disbelieving, "What?" everybody turned towards her, half of the people in the room taking a defensive stance, Derek approaching Stiles to pull him away if necessary.

After a second or two, Stiles steeled himself and asked, "What makes you ask that, Nana?"

Shaking her head at the naivety of the youth – honestly she had not gotten so old by being inattentive – she pulled out the last presents, offering them to her grandson. "Monkshood seeds, logs of a rowan tree and aconite. Honestly grandson, do you take me for a fool?"

Taking the seeds, looking at the generous box of the special brand of aconite and reverently touching the fifty centimetre long seedling of a young rowan tree, Stiles shook his head. "No, I … I don't. I just didn't know that you … how do you know?"

"Do you think you are the only one dealing with extraordinary creatures; the only one with a gift?"

"What … what do you mean 'with a gift?'" Stiles stammered, still overwhelmed by the open addressing of the nature of his family by his own grandmother.

Raising her eyebrows, she stated, "First you will answer my question, young man. Then maybe I will answer yours."

"I …" Stiles started, briefly glancing at Scott who blinked once, "No, not all of them. Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd and the twins are wolves, and of course Derek."

Glancing at the man who was hovering behind Stiles, she asked, "You are Talia Hale's son?"

"Yes, mam." Derek nodded respectfully.

Smiling she revealed, "The last time I was here before Claudia's death, Stiles was talking about …"

"Grandmother," Stiles interrupted her, unexpectedly rudely. "Why don't we take this conversation to my office?" Inviting her with an urgent gesture to take the lead.

Noting the change that had overcome her grandson, from insecure boy to decisive man who wanted to keep his secrets she hesitated for a moment, meeting his eyes. But when Stiles didn't back down, she nodded and followed the invitation. The last time she had been in here, this had been John's study. The couch had hosted Stiles and his beloved comic books whenever his father had managed to work from home. Now relaxing on the soft leather, she looked at her grandson.

"You don't want him to know?"

"Of course I don't want him to know?" Stiles answered exasperated.

"Why?" She asked, coming right to the point.

Groaning, Stiles mussed up his hair, sinking into the soft cushions, shaking his head. "Because Derek came to us under less than favourable circumstances. His mother more or less sold him to me, to even a debt she could not pay. He expected the worst when coming here; he feared being abused."

Smiling the elderly woman nodded and concluded, "And telling him that you have been crushing on him since High School would not have put his mind at ease."

"I didn't crush on him!"

"Yes, you did." Lucyna smiled. "You told me about the captain of the lacrosse team as soon as I was through the door. You asked if two families could forget their rivalries if their children loved each other, without one of them dying."

Groaning Stiles hid his face, embarrassed by the memories. "I was thirteen, Nana, and I had just seen West Side Story the day before. Cut a guy some slack!"

"Szczesny, … Stiles," she corrected herself. "You care about him, as much as any other member of your family. Why don't you want him to know that?"

"I am still trying to convince him, that he is a member of this family, of this pack. Not because he was given to us but because we want him here. After a pretty rough start he is slowly starting to trust us. Me revealing a hidden agenda surely will not help the situation!"

"What are you afraid of," his grandmother asked, "That he will return your feelings or that he won't?"

"That he will feel obliged to do so, without really wanting it. Whatever happens, every member of this family can say no! If I am giving an order, they can refuse me - with good reason of course."

Understanding, Lucyna picked up his train of thought, "And you think that he is not in a state of mind where he dares to say no."

"Exactly."

Smiling proudly, caressing her grandson's cheek, the elderly woman smiled. "That's a very heedful assessment of the situation, but you should remember one thing: You are afraid that he can't say no, but if you don't tell him, you keep from him the choice to say yes. I have watched him Stiles, he hovers behind you, his entire attention is on you, not between Scott and you like all the others, but solely on you. Things might have started out rough with him, but they are better now. Derek cares about you, maybe not as much as you care about him, but you will never know without talking to him."

"What if he says no?" Stiles whispered.

"What if he says yes?" His grandmother countered, but in the end Stiles didn't have an answer to that.

~ * ~

Shaking his head, Stiles pulled back from the topic at hand. "You still have not answered my question."

Nodding, Lucyna answered, "Not derailed from what's important by what's personal. Very good, Szczesny."

"I'm called … you know, forget it. Call me whatever you want, just tell me how you knew about the wolves?"

"Only the wolves, or the demon as well?"

Exasperated Stiles threw up his arms, "How on earth can you know that Danny's an incubus?"

"A sex demon?" She chuckled, "I _am_ impressed."

"But you said?" Stiles stammered, his mouth once more had gotten the better of him.

"I said demon, Stiles, not incubus." Stiles' grandmother reminded him, "The things you requested in addition to your usual trade, really only allowed one conclusion: supernatural creatures. While Monkshood and Rowan logs can have many uses, there is a good reason why the common name of aconite is 'Wolfsbane'. It seems that you inherited the gifts of our bloodline, otherwise you would not be able to co-Alpha a pack of no less than seven wolves. Your demon is something else, but I am aware that he too is bound to you. His energies felt too similar to yours."

"What do you mean by 'his energies'?" Stiles wondered, overwhelmed how easily his grandmother was reading his family despite him keeping their secrets to the best of his abilities.

"You carry a błysk, don't you, Stiles? Like your mother before you, like me, like my mother before me." She stated.

"A flash?" Stiles asked confused.

"'Spark' would be a more appropriate translation. But in the end it doesn't matter what you call it. You carry a very special energy inside of you, an energy that allows you to recognize and manipulate energies around you. Isn't that right?"

Keeping his training from Deaton in mind, Stiles nodded. The emissary of the Hale-pack had told him that he had the chance to influence the flow of any given energy, even the one of the earth despite it being so faint that no instrument would ever pick it up. Stiles had learned to recognize certain patterns, spells for the lack of a better word, and disrupt them. He was able to channel the pack's energy because it was very similar to his own and to conjure enough when bonding with the earth or members of his pack, to feed Danny when the incubus was starved.

But never before had he thought about it as an inherited gift. He had never talked about it with his mother, because she had been gone before he had hit puberty. He had never mentioned it towards his grandmother, because – just like the wolves – he had thought it to be best kept secret to protect himself and his family.

Now, however he wondered, wondered that if this was inherited and not unique to him, if there was more to it than even Deaton knew. "If every member of our family has this spark, is there a book about it, a textbook on how to use it; or can you teach me?"

Shaking his head, his grandmother corrected him, "Not 'every' member in our family has it. In every generation one member wakes to it. Since you are the last of our line in America it woke in you. There are no books since it is not something you can turn on and off like a toaster. You have to sensualise yourself to it. You have to learn to watch and listen. Every spark comes with its unique set of gifts and the only person who can teach you to use them is yourself."

Rising from the couch she stated, "But now I will go to my room and freshen up a little. You are allowed to take me to dinner tonight. I will be expecting you in an hour."

Standing up as well, bowing respectfully, Stiles smiled, "As you wish, grandmother. I will buy you a dinner that will sweep you off your feet."

"And then," she decided, "You will tell me about your new family. It seems that in the last five years I have missed a lot."

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can really buy these Rowan Tree Seedlings as a present. How cool is that?


	22. The American Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see a little more interaction between Stiles and his grandmother and learn how the head of the Stilinski family deals with unpleasant encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank's to 'Wecantgiggleatcrimescenes' (honestly, what an awesome name is that) I have another chapter ready for you.  
> Please take heed that the direct speech between ~ and in cursive letters is meant to be in Polish. I didn't want to throw translations at you, I had to translate in advance for you to understand them.

Derek was surprised when Isaac fetched him his leather jacket – one of Lydia's most thoughtful purchases – and grabbed an earbud from the bowl by the door. There was one unspoken rule Derek had managed to pick up: when they were doing business, and protecting Stiles and his grandmother definitely was business, they were to change into suits. But since Isaac wore artfully tattered jeans, a slightly frayed button down and his signature scarf, Derek didn't bother to change either.

When Stiles came down with his grandmother, both wearing nice jeans, Stiles in a deep red dress-shirt and his grandmother in a nicely embroidered blouse, nobody but Derek seemed to think this strange. Neither did Isaac bat an eyelash when Stiles grabbed the keys to his jeep and held the newly painted door open for his grandmother to climb in. Isaac and Derek jumped into the back-seat.

"You are still driving this beat-down car? Stiles, honestly, a young man in your position certainly can do better." His grandmother remarked, when Stiles hopped in.

"No knocking my baby, Nana." Stiles answered, and when he turned the key, bringing his car to life. He grinned brilliantly at her, enjoying the soft purr of the engine.

Raising her eyebrows the elderly woman remarked, "So you have finally found a mechanic you trust with your mother's car?"

"Yep," Stiles grinned, "He's sitting right behind you."

Turning around, throwing Derek an indecipherable look, Lucyna stated, "It seems that you are a man with many talents, Mr. Hale."

As it turned out, Isaac and Derek would have been overdressed in suits when going for burgers and curly fries. Seriously, Derek had expected the Stilinskis to eat in a fancy restaurant, hence their usual diner came as a surprise to him. Stiles only grinned when he saw the werewolf's confusion. "We always come here when Nana is visiting. Like a true Stilinski, she cherishes good, American cuisine."

"An acquired taste, I assure you," the woman added with a smile, "When I came here when Stiles was six, he had told me about this brilliant restaurant he had just discovered. He even drew me pictures of food, surely made in heaven."

"Nana" Stiles groaned, hiding his face in embarrassment.

"As it turned out," his grandmother continued unfazed, "Food made in heaven are burgers and curly-fries. It took me a while but I have to admit that I now find them a pleasant change to my usual diet."

When they chose a booth, Isaac pulled Derek into the jointed one, keeping both the Stilinskis and the door in his line of sight. Normally the bodyguards would stay as close as possible, but clearly grandmother and –son didn't want to be overheard, because the moment they had ordered, they switched language.

When Derek looked at Isaac questioningly, the boy merely shrugged, enjoying his own portion of fries without having Stiles steal any of them. "Where their topics meant for our ears, they would speak English instead of Polish."

"Stiles speaks Polish?" Derek wondered.

"Polish, English and a little Russian as far as I know." Isaac told him. "His mother was a firm believer in a broad education and since she originated from Poland, with her own father being of Russian origin, she had no troubles teaching Stiles.

"How does he practice?" Derek wondered, aware that languages faded away easily, when they were not used.

Shrugging, Isaac revealed, "Mostly by making his weekly reports in Polish, as for the Russian, I secretly suspect him using a Russian GTA on his computer, but since we are not allowed to use that one, I can't be sure. He's rusty says Scott, but still good enough for negotiations with Russian racketeers."

~ * ~

When a little later, Scott entered the restaurant, telling Derek that Lydia wanted him for a fitting, the werewolf groaned but accepted his fate. He traded places with Scott and slid into the sports-car Lydia was picking him up with. He knew better than to put up any resistance with her; the girl always got her way.

 _~Your family works quite seamlessly it appears.~_ Lucyna Stilinski remarked after getting an overview over how Stiles had managed to take over his family's business, ensuring that there would be no problems with the trade and the girls.

His father had kept everything on file, every meeting with every dealer. Ever since his sixteenth birthday, Stiles had been involved in the updating of these files. So there had been very little he had not known. He had been surprised by the amount of supernatural demands his father had met. Certain ores, rare substances or foreign plants had been on their regular list of goods imported from the old world. As had documents and information. Those were the most lucrative part of their trade. It had turned out, that vampires had a special dislike for computers and preferred using pen and paper, and that certain types of demons downright hated everything technological.

The Stilinski family had worked as spokesperson for these groups connecting them to their 'families' in the old world. Stiles had been frightened when he had heard about the vampires, the wendigoes and the demons for the first time. He had had nightmares for quite some time after being introduced to them.

Things had gotten better, when John had allowed him to accompany him to a meeting with Katerina. After meeting the beautiful, five-hundred-plus year old vampire, Stiles had come to the conclusion that supernatural creatures were just like regular people. They might adapt a special sort of diet or way of living, but if you knew what made them tick, you had very little to fear.

Werewolves had been another matter entirely. Since Talia Hale had always taken care of their business, Stiles had not learned about them, until Scott had been bitten.

Sighing tiredly, the boy admitted, _~It has been hard, especially with Scott and then Erica and Boyd and Isaac. There was a conflict with another pack that thought they could just barge into our town, taking us over. Deucalion's pack was made of but the strongest Alphas, ruthless killers that fought for their place there. He wanted Scott as well because …~_

 _~Because what, Szczesny?~_ she asked gently when Stiles didn't finish his sentence.

 _~Because he suspected Scott's true potential, something none of us ever saw.~_ Stiles admitted. _~But there was more to it, we stumbled into the middle of a blood-feud. One of our teachers was an ancient druid gone dark. She wanted Scott to fight them and kidnapped me and my dad as well as Scott's mum as leverage. She and Deucalion were ready to destroy each other. She set up a mountain-ash barrier, we were tied up in the middle and she threatened to kill us, if Scott did not kill Deucalion. She knew he had the potential to kill the demon-wolf but not how much more Scott could be. See, he is a very loyal friend, but he is no killer. Still, the mere idea of losing his mother, and maybe even me and my dad was too much for him to handle. He pushed through the barrier, destroyed it and ascended to true Alpha.~_

Rubbing her grandson's hand soothingly, this story clearly brought back many bad memories, but she didn't interrupt when he continued. _~Their fight had cost Deucalion most of his pack, only Kali and the twins survived. But Scott, he's calling the shots when it comes to werewolves. He could have killed Deucalion, hell I would have killed him myself had I been armed. But Scott decided to let him go, return to his own territory in San Francisco.~_

 _~There is more,~_ Stiles' grandmother prodded gently, seeing in her grandsons eyes that this story was not over.

Chuckling under his breath, Stiles sipped the last of his milkshake, drawing patterns into the condensing water on the table. _~No, we were ready to do business with the Duke, Deucalion I mean. Since we knew he had decided that he didn't want to trade with Talia Hale any longer. I agreed to it. Two days later, the twins appeared at our front of our door, beaten up and bloody, despite their healing factor. They wanted a change, they had seen how a pack could be. They had been the Omegas in their old pack, at the bottom of the pecking order, mistreated and most likely abused. Deucalion had offered them another life for the price of their Alpha, but still, being Alpha in Deucalion's pack doesn't mean that you have choices. With us they saw a pack that trusted each other instead of being constantly afraid - they were willing to submit to Scott, offering themselves for him to be their Alpha.~_

_~So they are his?~_

With a sly grin, Stiles shook his head. _~No, they are ours, just like everybody else. Scott accepted them under one condition: that they would submit to me as well, accepting me as their Alpha as much as him.~_

 _~And they did it, just like that?~_ His grandmother was surprised. She had never heard of werewolves submitting to a human. Usually humans were too weak for their wolves to accept them as their superior.

 _~Sure they did,~_ Stiles shrugged, _~After I kept them confined in a circle of mountain-ash in our backyard for two days straight.~_

Proudly his grandmother remarked, switching to English, since she had no qualms about anybody understanding what she was about to say, "I always knew you were special, right from the day you were born. As it turns out, you are even more extraordinary than I could have ever imagined. I am very proud of you, Stiles. Of the way you are handling things, but even more of the man you have become. Your parents would be proud as well."

Before Stiles could say anything to brush away a compliment that made him blush, Scott shot up from his place. "Allison has been injured. She's in the hospital!"

~ * ~

"Come on, Mel, be honest with me. I have been at your house, it's empty. There is furniture, someone cleaning the place and the mail might be picked up, but I know that you and Scott no longer live there. Just tell me what happened. I want to take care of you, both of you, please." Rafael McCall insisted, trailing after his wife who was picking up supplies to renew a bandage on a patient.

"Really," Melissa asked sarcastically, "After all this time, not calling once, never asking about our son's or my wellbeing, I should believe you that all of a sudden you are interested in us. After you have left, just like that?"

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Agent McCall insisted, "You were the one throwing me out. I didn't leave on purpose!"

Stopping in her tracks, whipping around, she hissed at him, "YOU were drunk twenty-four-seven. You barely managed to crawl out of bed in the morning to pretend to do your job. You didn't even recognize our son or me half of the time. You were gone long before I threw you out, so don't blame me. We have done well for ourselves, we are safe now, and don't you dare imply otherwise!"

"By associating yourself with the Stilinski-family?" The man reached for his wives arm and pulled her to the side. Only when she looked at his hand pointedly, did he let go, holding up his hands in defeat. "These are dangerous people. Claudia was shot in the streets, John at a formal event. Stiles isn't any better! You can't seriously want our son to associate with such people!"

"You don't …" She started, eyes ablaze with fury, when her pager got off, demanding her to come down to the emergency room. "You know, I don't have time for this. I am actually working here!"

Before her husband could reply, she had offered the bandages to a caretaker and stepped into the lift. Not being so easily derailed Rafael followed her. He was about to continue their argument, when he saw his wife blanching, as soon as the doors slid open.

Faster than he would have thought possible, Melissa was out of the lift and at the patients side that was currently brought in. A young, pretty, black-haired girl lay on a stretcher. Her hand was covered by a partial glove, enfolding only her thumb, index and middle-finger. She had a wrap around her neck, and a big cut on her forehead that sluggishly oozed blood. Helping to swap the girl from the ambulance's stretcher to one of their own beds, Melissa McCall was already starting to cut away the girls dirty and partially torn clothes, to make an examination easier. Still the Agent saw his wife touching her right ear, commanding under her breath, "Whoever picks this up, come to the hospital, Allison has been injured."

~ * ~

When the first exam was over, Melissa went to the nurse station picking up the phone, typing in a familiar number. When she entered the room the girl afterwards, the doctor of the station was currently reading her file. "Did you call her father?"

"Yes, doctor," Melissa answered, "just now."

"You have filled out these sheets?"

"Yes, she's my son's girlfriend. I've known her for years." She revealed and since there was no imminent danger, despite the likely concussion, the doctor left. Further exams had to be agreed upon by the father.

Victims with multiple stab-wounds were brought in soon after Allison, leaving Rafael McCall no time to talk to his wife again. He hovered outside of Allison's room, since keeping in mind what he had just heard he expected his son to come here. That gave Melissa the chance to hide the blades she had pulled out of Allison's shoes, cleaning them with bleach, before storing them in her own locker. The teenagers rarely told her about their plans but now and then she was still confronted with the business.

Willing to protect them since John and Stiles had gone great lengths to keep her and Scott safe, she concentrated on cleaning Allison's boots, making sure there was no blood residue, she returned to the girl's room when she heard that Chris had arrived.

~ * ~

Rafael was hovering outside the door, there had been indicators that the Argents were connected to the Stilinski family for the last few years. There had been no hard evidence, but he was willing to bid his time, watching and listening.

"We don't have insurance," Chris Argent explained despairing. "Isn't there a chance for her to get better on her own? The cut has already been stitched up, and maybe if we allow her to sleep …"

"Mr. Argent," the doctor stated in a serious voice. "Of course it is entirely possible for your daughter to get better by herself. But since she is not only sleeping but comatose at the moment, I would rather not take any chances. Head-wounds are always tricky and I would really advise you to agree to an MRI to make sure that there is no internal damage."

Desolated Chris shook his head. Business had been low these past months. He didn't want to engage in the trade, as Stiles had repeatedly offered, too dependant on his autonomy to come and go as he pleased. He had wanted to uphold the hunters' code, but now he could not even pay for his daughter's treatment. Swallowing around a constricting throat, he choked, "I'm sorry, doctor, but I really can't …"

"Of course we can." He was interrupted by a steady voice that allowed no argument.

Whipping around, Chris and Rafael realized, that they had been so caught up in the discussion about Allison's treatment, that they had not heard the three teenagers approaching them. Stiles in the middle and Scott and Isaac behind his shoulders, flanking him like guard dogs. The boys seemed to vibrate out of their skins. Stiles however appeared calm and collected, when he pulled out his wallet, choosing a credit-card, handing it over to the doctor. "I want Allison to receive the best treatment possible. I want her to be accommodated in a private room with either Isaac or Scott by her side at all times."

Smiling the doctor took the card, and nodded his head. Honestly, what more could he want for his hospital but a patient that had a patron who offered a platinum credit card without hesitation. "As you wish, Sir, we will arrange for an MRI as soon as possible."

"This is very generous of you," Agent McCall approached Stiles, the same moment Scott touched his best friend's back, begging urgently, "Stiles!"

Fixing the Agent with a calculating look, Stiles merely turned his head a little, nodding his consent. Isaac and Scott were in the room so fast, it seemed unnatural. Chris Argent emerged a moment later, looking at Stiles and Rafael McCall.

Taking in the pristine uniform of Scott's dad, his tense posture and his hawk-like eyes, Stiles only shrugged, downplaying that he had just offered several-thousand dollars for someone who was not even related to him. "Allison is a friend. I take care of my friends." Before leaving the man behind, entering one of the anterooms of this floor. Luckily nobody was occupying it.

Urgently Chris stepped up to him, as soon as the door was closed, shutting out the Agent who was hovering outside. "I can't pay you back, Stiles. I can barely make my due as it is. There is not exactly a bonus-system for eliminated threats to mankind in my line of work. I have left my job behind one time to many to get fully paid. This will cost thousands of dollars I don't have!"

Shrugging, Stiles reminded the hunter, "Well, lucky for you my business thrives. I have managed to wrap up negotiations with another transport company that will take care of Central America, this week. I can afford her treatment easily."

"I can't pay you back, at least not in the foreseeable future!" Chris repeated weakly. He had done business with John and had accepted the man's support, but somehow it felt wrong to do the same with Stiles. The boy was barely of age, he should not have to deal with Chris' problems.

Quietly Stiles reminded him, aware of the nosy set of ears right outside the door. "Allison was taking care of business this afternoon. My dad promised our protection after you offered her. I gave her an out after he died. She didn't take it. She stayed with me by choice, that means she's part of the family and therefore under my protection. Worry about her getting better. Not about something as petty as money when your daughter is injured."

"Stiles, I …" Chris started again, but instead of finding a way to express his gratitude, he allowed Stiles to pull him into a hug.

Quietly the teenager assured the hunter, "She's family and with the risk come the benefits. And so are you. You are not alone Chris, never forget that."

"Thank you. I guess … I guess I will return to her room now." The hunter decided, grateful for a support he had not counted on receiving after the Sheriff's death.

~ * ~


	23. Taking Care of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More interaction between Nana and one of Stiles pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the updated tags. Warning for Forced Orgasms for this chapter.

When Chris Argent entered his daughter's room both Isaac and Scott whirled around, growling under their breaths. When they recognized him, they relaxed, returning their attention to their girlfriend. The moment Chris stepped to the foot of the bed, he realized that both wolves were holding his daughter's hands, black veins traveling up their arms where they were pulling her pain.

"Is it bad?" He asked.

"Not as bad as it could be," Isaac assured him.

"She barely feels anything, this is more to support the healing than to ease her," Scott said. "I want to take care of her the best I can, before going out to find the bastard who has done this to her."

"Are you sure that this was not a mere accident?" The hunter asked.

"No," Scott shook his head, "I am not sure since she … was successful and was not injured during her last assignment. They said that she was hit by a motor-cycle, but since Beacon Hills has traffic cameras, I am sure …"

"That the Sheriff's department will find the person responsible for this," Chris interrupted the teenager, looking pointedly at the door where Agent McCall was still hovering outside of.

Clenching his teeth, Isaac seethed, "Sure, the Sheriff's department. I am sure they will do their very best!"

When the doctor came in a few minutes later, Scott and Isaac looked at each other, entertaining a wordless conversation that mainly contained changing expressions of eyes and eyebrows. After a few moments, Scott gave in, stating annoyed, "Fine, I'll talk to him!" Leaving Isaac behind with Chris Argent and the doctor to step outside to face his father.

~ * ~

It had been the charming demon who had picked Lucyna up from the diner, barely ten minutes after hearing from Scott that Allison had been injured. She had wanted to come along, but Stiles had begged her to return to the house. And though both knew that she was the head of his family, and could very well do as she pleased, she had indulged her grandson, accepting that this stressful situation would be easier for him if he knew her safe.

During the ride home, Danny had thrown her repeating looks and when Lucyna had finally addressed the matter, the boy had blushed, cheeks reddening. "If you try to seduce me young demon, I will swat you for good measure, and I promise you feeding will get much harder for the next two days."

"I … I didn't …" Danny stammered, terribly embarrassed about her misinterpretation of his attention. Not that he had qualms about ensnaring partners past their prime, to the demon the age of his victim mattered little. But even thinking about trying to seduce his master's grandmother was … well he would consider it bad form. Still this woman intrigued him in a way he could not pinpoint. She felt like Stiles, but much stronger. How could someone feel more like his master than his master himself?

"I just … you … Stiles … you …" groaning Danny hit his head against the steering wheel when they came to a red light. Usually he was so eloquent and found words for every given situation. Stiles always called it cheating when he prompted Danny to take over negotiations that went badly. But now, in this car, with the matriarch of the Stilinski clan, Danny was at loss for words.

Grinning the woman looked at the young incubus. It had been years since she had dealt with a sex demon and the last one she had encountered had been … well, she still cherished the memories of a very, very pleasant night. She had barely suffered from it since her spark had allowed her to draw enough energy from the people around them to sate the demon. They had parted amicably but Lucyna had never seen her again.

"I'm sorry." Danny tried again. "It's just that you … your energy feels a lot like that of my Master, our Alpha … like Stiles. But you taste stronger than him, more than him. That doesn't even make sense… I’m going to shut up now. Sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Stilinski."

Chuckling slightly, because no matter what this boy thought, his words made absolute sense. She had however always been one who believed in practical examples rather than dry explanations. In her experience the first stayed in mind far better. "Are you up for a little experiment, Mr. Mahealani?"

When pulling up in front of the house, Danny looked at Stiles' grandmother in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Gently the woman cupped his face and brushed over his bottom lip with her thumb. A user of this trick himself, it had never had such an impact on Danny in the past, especially when the woman whispered seductively, "Open up for me, pretty boy and let me show you."

She pulled his face closer and leaned in, their lips barely brushing when she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly into Danny's mouth. A small cloud of red mist passed between their lips, very much like when Danny fed Stiles his energy after draining him. But this was so much more, the energy was so strong it nearly had a texture and the demon inhaled it greedily. Nails desperately scratching over the leather of the steering wheel and the seat where he was steadying himself.

The rush of energy felt like a shot of pure heroin to the incubus. Instantly he got hard and tried to lean closer, but strong fingers held him back, not allowing him any more contact beyond her hand on his face. Danny's fingers clutched tighter, digging his nails into the upholstering of the passenger seat, and he drank and drank and drank until Stiles' grandmother broke the contact.

With a moan the boy sank back into his seat, his hand pressing against his crotch where the energy spilled out of him without him being able to rein it in. But instead of tampering his desire, the barest touch of his palm pushed him over the edge. An orgasm shook his body and he spilled into his pants, trembling all over; barely conscious for minutes after.

When he finally managed a conscious thought again, he hid his face behind his hand's, mortified about what had just happened. Stiles would have his balls for this if not more. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, so terribly sorry, I …" he whispered brokenly, dreading to look at his passenger. Surely the last thing Stiles' grandmother had wanted was seeing him making a complete fool of himself.

He only dared to look up when he heard the elderly woman laughing sympathetically. "Don't be young incubus. You are quite a show. And it is me who should apologize. I was the one overloading you and I had a very good idea of what might happen."

"Overloading me?" Danny asked, slightly comforted by the fact that Lucyna didn't seem angry.

"Yes," she nodded matter-of-factly. "See, what you sense that is 'Stiles but stronger' is in fact our spark. I had years to come to learn dealing with my gift and have honed and explored it. Stiles is only at the beginning of his journey and over the years, he will become stronger as well, able to channel more energy. He will become more powerful because his body will be able to store more with experience. What you just felt was the energy of about three people, I can store up to five and channel about a dozen. Usually I don’t use it for more than protecting myself or, as it was here, driving a message home. But if the occasion demands for it, I can channel it, concentrate it in one single burst and believe me; very few remain standing afterwards."

Grateful that their conversation stirred away from his embarrassing loss of control, Danny pondered, "If we need it, Stiles can channel the energy of the entire pack, we are nine so far, ten if you count Derek. But in the past he had always only directed flows of energy where it was needed, never stored any of it."

Allowing the teenager to open the door for her, accompanying him into the house, Lucyna asked, "Stiles told me that he once trapped two of your wolves in a circle of mountain ash for an extended amount of time?"

Grinning at the memory, Danny nodded, "Yes, Ethan and Aiden … well more Aiden since he had been the one with the problem accepting a human Alpha. Stiles drove the message home that he was very well able to deal with them on his own and without Scott's help by trapping them for two days. But that's no storage of energy. He only has to set the circle up and it stays that way."

"Really?" Lucyna asked, wondering how little these boys understood. "He told me that it was in your back-yard. There was no wind, no commotion at all?"

"Of course there was wind, there even was rain," Danny shrugged, "But that doesn't mean …" He interrupted himself, looking at the woman who had followed him up the stairs and into his room. "You are saying that Stiles is very well able to store energy, in a circle of mountain ash for example to hold it in place?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just asking the right questions. It seems that my grandson is far more powerful than he lets himself be aware of. But after everything that has happened with his mother and father, I see no reason to disturb his illusions. We Stilinskis always had the tendency to leap into our powers in a moment of crisis. It seems that with the twins and you it was the same for Stiles. If he needs it he will recognize his abilities. Until then let us help him to deal with the mundane problems at hand and not worry about his spark."

"Alright," Danny agreed, opening a wardrobe that stood in a corner of the room, revealing a setup of computers NASA would have envied, but he hesitated before pulling out the chair. "Maybe … ahm … I will just take a quick shower and change and then we will see who hit Allison."

~ * ~

"What do you want, dad?" Scott asked exasperated. Having one of his partners' hurt– short of Stiles getting hurt – was the worst thing imaginable for the teenager. He wanted to take care of Allison, talk to the doctor, her father and pull her pain, even when there was very little of it. What he definitely did not want was to deal with is father - just because the man suddenly remembered that he had a wife and son. A convenient incident when he came around to investigate Scott's best friend.

"I'm worried about you and your mother." Rafael admitted, worried about the hostile behaviour of his son.

"Really?" Scott folded his arms over his chest defensively. "We have not come across any kinds of trouble for the last three years, not after moving in with the Stilinskis. We might … _might_ have needed you before that, to help us with the wages, with the hospital bills because my asthma got so bad that I had to be hospitalized for a week. Mum worked double-shifts, sometimes triple. There were days when she couldn't come home at all because otherwise we would have starved to death. We would have needed you _then_ , but you didn’t show up did you!"

Taking a deep breath, because losing it in the middle of the hospital really was no option, Scott lowered his voice, looking at his father who appeared shocked by how bad things had been for them. Well, he had never bothered to ask, had never called, not even sent an e-mail.

Despite smelling his pained surprise, Scott refused to feel sorry for the man.

Still, he spoke much calmer when he pointed out to his father, "It was John Stilinski, Stiles' dad, who took care of me when mum couldn't afford to do anything but work and sleep. He was the one bringing me to the hospital when Stiles called him when I had an asthma-attack at school that was so bad that I was barely able to remain conscious."

Shaking his head, saddened and grateful at the same time for these memories, he whispered, "It was Stiles who held me through all of it, wrapped himself around me so tight, forcing me to breath with him so that I wouldn't pass out. He was the one who helped me until the ambulance arrived. John … Mr. Stilinski took care of anything, of my accommodation, the hospital bills, everything so that mum and I could concentrate on me getting better! Just like Stiles did today for Allison.”

He paused, giving his father a hate-filled glare before continuing "If you want to worry about mum or me now, out of the blue, don't, because Stiles has us covered. We are a family now and we don't need you!"

Before Rafael McCall got the chance to react to Scott's fierce dismissal, Isaac left Allison's room interrupting the tense atmosphere, approaching Scott with tears in his eyes. He had expected many things, but not Scott wrapping his arms around the other boy, practically fusing their bodies when pulling him close.

Isaac's voice was thick with tears when he shared, "They say she's in a deeper coma than they had expected. She barely reacts to anything. They want to bring her to the MRI in an hour. What are we going to do, Scott?"

Rafael pulled back, overwhelmed by the open display of affection when Scott pulled back and took the taller boy's face in his hand's, kissing him lovingly, before putting their foreheads together. "This is Allison we are talking about, Isaac. She's strong, the strongest person we know, right? She's a fighter, able to bring the both of us to our knees, at the same time without even breaking to sweat." Apparently that sparked a memory because the Isaac-boy chuckled wetly.

"There is no way in hell she won't make it, Isaac. We won't allow for anything else to happen. Okay?" Scott assured his partner, pulling him into a fierce hug once again. For a few moment none of the two said a word, but when Isaac pulled back he appeared more composed than before. Turning around, still having an arm around Scott he asked, "What is your father doing here?"

Rafael, still hovering at the edge of the ward, barely within earshot, he heard his son replying, "He has inquired about me and mum, but I told him we are fine. He'll leave. Come on, let's get back to Allison."

Since the dismissal was quite obvious and neither Scott nor Melissa were speaking to him, and Stiles was off somewhere taking care of the financial details of Allison's treatment, Rafael had no reason to stay. He had heard rumours and had had enough vague evidence to justify coming here and entertaining an investigation of the Stilinski family like he had done two years ago. But despite until now always having worked very hard to find hard evidence so that he could put an end to their organization, he had never been able to do so. Now, with Scott involved, he found himself questioning if pursuing the Stilinski family was the wisest choice.

~ * ~


	24. Cold hearted bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discover how the head of the Stilinski family deals with someone who hurts his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the help of Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene (see, I can get your name right ;)) and memprime I have another chapter ready for you. Thanks to the two of you for helping me with awkward phrases and all the silly mistakes I make. You two are making my story a lot better and I am very grateful.
> 
> However, I feel the need to deliver another warning at the beginning of this chapter. I did not update the tags because frankly, I wouldn't even know how. Without offering too many spoilers I just want to warn you that now you will see how ruthless Stiles can really be. It won't be nice. 
> 
> Just saying.

Isaac was staying with Allison in the hospital for the moment. With Scott in tow, Stiles returned home, walking straight up to Danny's room. Lydia, Aiden and Ethan were occupying the bed while Derek was sitting on the floor in front of it. Stiles' grandmother sat in the comfortable chair Danny usually used when working. The hacker had stolen Stiles' desk-chair, since their rooms were the closest. He was currently tracking a motorbike through traffic cameras, occasionally flickering through documents that popped up on one of his other screens, seemingly pushing them out of the frames. But Stiles knew better and sat behind Lydia, peaking over her shoulder.

The girl's laptop had been integrated into Danny's system, enabling him to use an additional pair of eyes to evaluate the situation. Straightening his cuffs Stiles asked, "Alright, what have we got here?"

Danny started, "Charles Franklin, no wife, no kids. Thirty-seven with a record of holding more jobs than any member of our organization, and you know that I check all of our personnel. At the moment he is without an occupation, drinking away his last savings. He has not paid his rent for the last three months and his landlord has already threatened to evacuate him twice. He appears to be on his way from his favourite bar to his only sister, presumably to ask her for money. Her bank debt shows regular withdrawals of a few hundred bucks at the end of each month. She had forced a restraining order on him last year because he had threatened her child when coming around drunk."

Lydia continued when Danny stopped, "I don't like it but it appears that this is nothing but a simple hit-and-run. He has no connection to any group we do business with. Following his extensive Facebook profile, something he uses to lament about the hardships of life, his landlord, and his bosses when he entertains a job, it seems unlikely that this was a planned action. He was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Nothing but a blunt fool, most likely not even accountable for his actions, since he might have be intoxicated when committing them.

Lucyna Stilinski looked around the room at the individuals her grandson surrounded himself with. The twins lounged on the bed, hugging and supporting the genius girl, who was completely focused on her task with no concentration to spare. Danny, so focused on his computers that he didn't even notice the people who kept coming in. The elderly woman was particularly impressed with the current actions of the girl who had taken in more information in a quarter of an hour than she could in three, and the computer genius who sat outwardly calm but with his fingers flying over the keyboard and mouse like those of a magician who was about to pull a bird out of his sleeve.

The police would find him easily if the hacker of the American Stilinski branch gave them a tip. But what would happen then? Nobody knew. Hopefully Allison would make a full recovery. Her daughter and son-in-law had been known to be quite ruthless when it came to business, but Stiles? He was only eighteen and this was not business, it was a mere connection of unfortunate circumstances. There was no need for her grandson to assert his position other than with his own people. He didn't have to take a life, something she suspected a teenager to be reluctant about. It was a hard world, but Stiles was barely more than a child.

She was surprised then when, after a minute where Stiles and Scott looked at each other, Stiles making eye contact with every other member of the pack - her grandson looked at Danny and nodded. Fingers flew over keys, calculating, starting a series of events that would never, ever be traceable as the boy had assured her at the beginning of his investigation.

Tense they all watched the monitor over Danny's head that seemed to show street cameras that followed their Mr. Franklin, when commands and code flew over the lower screens. The scumbag entered his sister's house, but didn't even make it past the foyer. A heated discussion was taking place where the woman repeatedly gestured towards the bike and shook her head, determined.

Spewing venom, the man turned around, mounting his bike again, taking long drags from a bottle he pulled out of the breast-pocket of his worn jacket. When he started again, he wove unsteadily through traffic. A traffic light was coming up and Danny asked calmly, "Stiles?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the teenager commanded, "Do it."

The next second the traffic light sprang from red to green, allowing the bike to continue his course without even slowing down. Typically when one light was green the other should be red. Not so in this case. A truck, a big one entered the crossroad at full speed, practically dismembering the bike and his driver under its wheels. All eyes but four were fixed on the upper monitor, taking in the picture of a truck coming to a screeching halt, a truck-driver emerging from the cockpit and running to the back of the vehicle, but after rolling over the bike and its driver, there was little to be saved. Still, proving readiness of mind the driver started to call 911, checking the pulse of the maimed body.

Nobody said a word as long as Lydia and Danny's hands flew over keyboards, erasing code that had been implemented, deleting any trace of the traffic-light being tampered with. When Stiles quietly demanded, "Make it an error in the system. We don't want to make the life of our angel of death harder than it has to be. His light was green."

After a few more moments Lydia stopped typing and not long after her Danny as well. "It's done." The hacker assured, powering down his station, locking the computers away again.

"That was not very satisfying." Aiden stated, voicing what everybody in the room was thinking. The tension had gone down considerably, but had not completely vanished.

"Let's go for a run," Scott decided, all werewolves following him out, leaving only Lucyna, Lydia, Danny and Stiles behind.

"Is this a common practise for you? Killing people at random?" Stiles' grandmother asked impassive.

"If they hurt my family, yes it is. I remember you having no qualms about my dad pursuing mum's killer," the teenager countered angrily, ready to defend his decision.

Watching the two Stilinskis, slightly worried, unsure if they were allowed to interfere, Lydia and Danny sat unmoving, until Lucyna stood up and gently caressed her grandson's cheek. "I don't have any now as well. I didn't think you had it in you, but you were cold, detached with just the right amount of compassion. I'm very proud of you Stiles, and your parents would be as well."

Hugging her grandson, she decided soon thereafter, "I will go to bed now, thirty hours in a plane took a lot out of me. Have a good night, children. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

With a wink towards Danny she left and when Stiles turned towards the incubus, the boy's cheeks flamed up again.

"Do I want to know?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Ahm …," Danny started, wondering how he could phrase that delicately, but Lydia beat him to it. "It seemed like your grandmother had energy to spare. I saw her kissing him in the car when they arrived."

Grinning lewdly, surprised by the easy attitude of his grandmother towards his incubus, Stiles asked, "and did you like it?"

"Damn yes," Danny groaned, hiding his face, ashamed of himself when remembering the impact Stiles' grandmother's energy had had on him. "I … well the demon-part of me liked it a lot!"

~ * ~

When the wolves returned, Stiles opened his arms for his best friend and allowed Scott to cling on to him, to share his strength and determination before the boy got up to shower, leaving for the hospital soon thereafter. Visiting hours might be over but even the Beacon Hills hospital lived by the golden rule: those who had the money made the rules. That Melissa McCall was main nurse and Scott's mother definitely helped.

For Derek, the events of the evening had brought both fear and awe. Stiles had commanded the life of a man to be erased, just like that, and not a single member of his pack had contradicted him. This boy had all the qualities of a good leader and his fierce protectiveness of his own family. His determination to punish those who hurt those he cared about clearly was inspiring unconditional loyalty. For a brief moment, Derek entertained the thought that Stiles would do the same for him, that he would punish those who faulted Derek. But in the end he was only a temporary member of this pack. Still, to see how it could be, how a family could work where the leaders didn't keep their secrets but included everyone in their decision-making process, made him feel enlightened and wistful.

Still, what had happened took its toll out of all of them. Erica and Boyd still were at work, most likely not even hearing about what had happened until now. Ethan and Aiden were also greatly bothered by Allison's accident along with the rest of the pack and when they put in a movie, using the TV set in the living-room for the first time, Derek realized that no one planned on returning to their own beds that night. Maybe he should go and allow the twins to draw comfort from their Alpha. But Stiles – apparently able to read him by now – shook his head and reached for Derek, until the werewolf lay on the extendible couch, huddled up between Stiles legs, his head on the teenagers upper leg.

Aiden had claimed a place on Stiles' shoulder and Ethan lay curled up above the two, sharing Stiles' pillow. When the human Alpha started to card his fingers through Derek's hair the werewolf felt the nervous energy that had built up ever since they had heard about Allison's accident slowly receding, and got sleepier and sleepier. He doubted that any of them noticed the film ending when around three in the morning he woke to use the facilities and stopped to turn off the TV. When returning to the living-room he realized that Boyd and Erica had returned as well, both laying intertwined on the extended love-seat at the foot of the couch.

Hesitantly he returned to his place on the couch, slightly worried to claim such an intimate position again. But Stiles beat him to it, sleepily holding out his hand when the couch dipped again, pulling Derek close and spooning him from behind. Aiden had claimed Stiles’ back, Ethan laying snuggled up behind his brother. Derek wanted to pull back, to concentrate on how inappropriate this position was and tried to convince his wolf to leave. But in the end his animalistic instincts won out, convincing him to accept how utterly right this position felt, lulling him to sleep with the promise that everything would be fine.

~ * ~

Despite the MRI not showing any substantial damage, it took Allison nearly a week to wake up. The slight swelling had worried the doctors but with Isaac and/or Scott permanently around her, pulling her pain, she recovered at an unbelievable speed. At least that's what the doctors said.

Stiles' grandmother had accompanied her son to the Red Hood Trading Company. At the beginning she had smiled about the chosen name, but now she realized how much foresight her daughter had shown when choosing it. In a world full of wolves, they were the ones who survived.

Rafael McCall entered the premises on Tuesday, demanding that Stiles reveal his books. Smiling like a predator, her grandson had told him, "You see Agent McCall, you want our books, I don't want to be bothered by unwelcome company. Seems like we both won't get what we want today. But if you return with a warrant, it will be my pleasure to show you our archives."

The agent had no choice but to leave at this stalemate, knowing that he would get no further without proper paperwork, making the young leader’s lips quirk up into a pleased smile.

Once the agent was gone and Danny, Derek and the Stilinskis were sitting in the conference room sharing a light lunch, Lucyna asked, "Do you need time to prepare your books for inspection?"

Shaking his head, sipping his smoothie, Stiles gestured towards Derek. "Ever since Derek started looking over things, I don't worry in the slightest. While my accountant Mr. Bale is very good and has my trust, Derek is a wizard with numbers. When he goes over the books and tells me that I don't have anything to worry about, I don’t worry about them."

Smiling proudly about Derek's skill, Stiles did not see the wolf's cheeks flaming up at the compliment. Lucyna however noticed very well and looked at the werewolf, who did his best to hide behind his plate of chicken salad. "So you are my grandson's accountant?"

"I am whatever your grandson needs me to be, Mrs. Stilinski." Derek answered seriously. "My knack for numbers just makes me particularly useful when it comes to book-keeping."

Danny's demonic side couldn't help but to strongly pick up on the impact Derek's phrasing had on Stiles. But like Lucyna before, he didn't address it; he just shared a look with Stiles' grandmother, realizing that she had the same, half-smile on her face.

Derek excused himself soon thereafter. As soon as the door was closed behind him, the woman smiled openly at Stiles, deciding, "I like him. He's a good addition to the family."

Beaming, aware that this might be the highest praise his grandmother was able to give, Stiles hugged her before the three of them rose to return to work. When Danny passed her by, she patted his cheek in a motherly fashion, assuring him, "I like you as well, young incubus. No need to get jealous. Dark, tall and handsome has always been my type."

Now it was Danny's turn to blush, ducking his head when Stiles looked at his grandmother scandalized. "Nana!"

"What?" the woman asked innocently. "I am old, not dead. And you have a lot of handsome men orbiting around you."

"Could you please," Stiles choked, rubbing his forehead as if pushing away a migraine, "NOT hit on the members of my family?"

"Well," the woman smiled mischievously. "I surely would do it less if you would do it more."

Finally evoking a blush on her grandson, Lucyna thought her task of embarrassing the youth done and turned towards the lift. "I will go to your warehouse now. You have a very interesting distribution and storage system I am thinking about introducing to my yards. Pick me up at five so that we can go to the hospital together."

~ * ~

"You can't go to this party alone!" Barely a day out of hospital, not more than thirty-six hours after waking up from a five-day long coma, Allison was arguing with Stiles like nothing had ever happened. The only indicator that she was not in top-condition was the fact that she sat snuggled on the couch between her two boyfriends, shouting up at Stiles, instead of getting into his personal space like she usually did when they were arguing.

"For heaven's sake, Allison. I won't be alone!" Stiles repeated for the third time. "Isaac and Scott will be with me."

"Actually, I would …," Scott interrupted.

But Stiles didn’t even let him finish, "Fine, so Isaac and Derek will be with me. I will be absolutely safe Allison. I know that you were my arm-candy last year and believe me I really appreciated it, but I'm a grown man, I can very well attend a ball on my own!"

"You won't be alone," Stiles grandmother injected calmly, and – as always when she spoke – all eyes turned towards her. That woman had a presence equal to that of Danny when he chose to utilise his extra talents. "I will accompany my grandson. It is important for these wanna-be gangsters to see that Stiles still has the full support of his family. We might operate in Europe but half the special drugs sold in California are imported through us. Best to remind them of that when I am around."

"We did not even receive an invitation," Lydia piped up from her usual place on the dining-table.

Gently pulling back the girl's hair, a gesture Lydia surprisingly accepted from a virtual stranger, Lucyna revealed, "Nobody gets an invitation. It's an open ball. Those who know about the meaning of the event make sure the right names are on the guest-list. The other participants are just a cover."

"Then why can't we all go?" Allison injected.

"But we all _are_ going, Allison. Why do you think I ordered everybody in for a fitting last week?" Lydia injected, looking very pleased with herself. "Since you were not around we guessed your measurements. The clothes were delivered this morning and are already in your wardrobes.

Looking at her boyfriends, Allison scolded them, "If there was a fitting, why didn't you tell me?"

Isaac sneered, "Because Lydia forcing us into formal wear is not something out of the ordinary. We were too worried about you to mention it. Anyway, Lyds is on top of our social calendar as always, no need to worry about anything."

Massaging her head, because she felt a headache around the corner Allison tried again. "So you are telling me that we are about to attend a ball in Frisco tomorrow evening, in formal wear that has already been bought, without even knowing if we will make it past the lobby?" She swatted away Scott's hand when he tried to pull her pain, not bothering to mask her irritation with both of her lovers.

"No, honey," the matriarch of the Stilinski family stated quietly, "Stiles will be attending a ball with me by his side and all of you in tow. We are going to show that despite John's death, the hold of the Stilinski family on their territory is as strong as ever and that we still are a force to be reckoned with. Once they have a clue, no one will dare stand in our way, believe me."

~ * ~


	25. Black Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening in formal wear.

Derek had expected the house to become a beehive of activity the next afternoon. The opening of the ball was not before eight, but it had been agreed upon that they would not arrive before nine, since at the beginning there were only speeches in honour of this or that and how very much the community had improved over a certain something. Boring to put it in simple terms.

But all in all they spent the day languid, lounging around and entertaining themselves with their hobbies. The girls were having a spa day, getting a manicure or pedicure or some-other-cure that was probably overpriced for what it was. Derek had not wanted in any case to ask too closely about it. Mrs. McCall had joined them, as had Stiles grandmother. When they returned around six they shared an early dinner before everybody got up to get ready.

After getting out of the shower with a towel firmly wrapped around his waist, Derek found Stiles standing before the build-in mirror of his wardrobe. "Does this … does this seem a little big to you?" the teenager pondered, holding up the jacket from his newest tuxedo.

"Ahm … yes?" Derek answered. Usually clothes for such an important occasion were tailored. Lydia had dragged him to a fitting last Sunday and yesterday afternoon. But Stiles now held up a jacket that seemed to be cut very … generously. When Derek shrugged and pulled it off the hanger, to offer it to the human, it became clear that this jacket was completely out of proportion.

"Lydia?" Stiles raised his voice, turning in front of the mirror in nothing but his jeans and the jacket over his naked skin. It was a beautiful tuxedo, a deep, saturated red that made Stiles pale skin stand out even more. When Lydia entered, Derek excused himself, leaving for his tiny room, clutching his towel tightly around his wrist. It wouldn't do to … well, do anything. Stiles was not his to touch, not his to caress, not his to kiss, despite the invitation his naked skin seemed to broadcast to Derek.

Derek took a few centring breaths to clear his head, before he started to put on his own suit. His fitted like a glove and for a moment, Derek wished for a mirror to look at himself. But beyond that door lay a very irritated Stiles who bickered with Lydia as to why his suit did not fit. Surely he had taken off the too big jacket again. That meant that he stood at the other side of the door, in only his jeans, with bare feet and … god help him, this was going to be a long evening if he kept imagining Stiles barely dressed.

Agreeing that this was the tailor’s fault, as Stiles had not gained or lost any weight over the last few days, the teens now were at loss of what to do. Sure, Stiles still had his suit from last year, but appearing as the head of the Stilinski family in America, Stiles should do better than already worn outfits.

Derek thought it safe to leave his room when he heard Stiles' grandmother entering, asking Stiles to follow her. The werewolf looked after her, just in time to see the door to her bedroom closing. Lydia stood beside him, apparently unfazed that she wore only underwear and stockings, tipping her perfectly manicured finger against her lower lip. "Well, I assume she is right, there are enough suits available. Stiles just has to dare wearing one of them."

Before Derek could ask what she was talking about, she had left him behind, entering her own room to dress.

~ * ~

Stiles had enjoyed the prospect of joining the ball with a deep-red tuxedo. It was kind of an insider-joke between him and his pack that he was the red riding hood to their wolves. But now … well this was all very unfortunate. At least four suits had been tailored perfectly to his liking. But sooner or later things had to go wrong. Now the perfect tuxedo was not so perfect and Stiles needed to find something to wear and fast, because they still had to drive to Frisco and arrive in time for the opening of the buffet. Entering late was one thing but there was such a thing called tardiness, and in their business that simply wouldn't do.

His grandmother stood behind him, looking into the wide wardrobe her daughter and son in law had built up. A long row of beautiful dresses, blouses, trousers and countless shoes on the right side. On the left, perfect suits, each worn barely a dozen of times. Jeans and shirts, dress-shirts and worn sweaters her son-in-law had preferred during his meagre free-time. Stiles had his mother's flawless features but his father's build. He would fill out John's suits quite nicely, but still, the teenager was reluctant to enter the wardrobe.

"They were his," the boy whispered. "How can I ever dare to wear one of his suits? They were his trademark, always a white suit with a dark shirt. Everybody knew. I could never live up to that."

"Oh my stupid, little Szczesny." His grandmother censured him. "You _are_ already living up to that. You took over his work, his territory. You were increasing his profit and expanding our trade. Don’t you see that you are not only living up to expectations, but exceeding them by far? If your parents were here they’d be so proud of you."

"Nana, I …," Stiles whispered brokenly. Standing here in his parents' empty bedroom made their loss so much more palpable and it hurt so much to know that he could never again enter this wardrobe, steal away his father's shirts, hide behind his mother's dresses when he was distressed, because they would never come and get him. They were dead and buried and he was all alone.

But his grandmother's hand on his shoulder reminded him that he was not alone. She might not have been there after his father's death, but she was here now. Willing to support him, willing to verify the position he would be claiming tonight. "Can you … can you pick one for me?" Stiles asked quietly. Maybe he could put on his father's skin, but he could never pick one suit over the others.

His grandmother however, didn't seem to have a problem with that, because she merely nodded, "Go and change your underwear and put on a dark undershirt."

Wordlessly, Stiles passed Derek in the hallway, too wrapped up in his own head, to realize the werewolf's presence.

Stiles smelled sad, and that just felt so wrong to Derek. He had gotten to know his human Alpha as a happy and joyful person. Now there was a lingering sadness that clung to Stiles' body like a dark cloud. He wanted to reach out, to comfort, but in the end he wasn't sure if such a gesture was welcome tonight. They were on the verge of establishing their position. Appearing weak and clinging simply wouldn't do.

When Stiles left his room a few moments later, he managed to force a smile on his face, complimenting Derek, "You look very impressive. I am sure nobody will dare to come close to me with you by my side, glowering at anybody who dares to touch me." And with that he slipped through the door to his parents' former room again.

"That's … that's his favourite suit." Stiles noticed. But still he took the trousers his grandmother was offering, noticing that with very little adjustments they hung perfectly on his hips. The shirt she had chosen was of the same deep-red that his original suit had been. He struggled with his conflicting emotions as she helped him slip on the jacket and he looked into the mirror and swallowed around a suddenly dry and constricting throat.

"I … there is no bowtie … I need …," he croaked because this was … he had never realized how very much he looked like his father. But now he was in his parents' room, wearing his dad's suit and it fit him nearly better than those that had been tailored for him.

"John never wore a bowtie. He thought them tools of torture if I remember correctly," Nana chuckled, pulling a little on the jacket so that it hung her grandson's frame perfectly.

Brushing reverently over the expensive fabric, Stiles shook his head absentmindedly, "No, he didn't." Barely turning his head, Stiles spoke up, he didn't shout, he didn't have to, he just spoke loud and clear when asking, "Scotty, I need you."

Scott entered the bedroom with but a brief hesitation.

"Pull the bed away from the wall please." Stiles ordered and instantly Scott complied.

Turning around, the two teenagers pulled the bed nearly to the door, Stiles nodding to his best friend. The Alpha-wolf carefully pushed at an engraving that decorated the head of the bed of Stiles' parents and a hidden latch opened. He reached inside, pulling free a jewellery box, offering it to his friend.

When Stiles opened the box he looked at his mother's promise ring and the piece of jewellery she had loved the most for a long moment before he whispered, "Dad never wore a tie, he wore mum's cross instead. He said that it was a blessing that he could feel her by his side, no matter where she was." John Stilinski had rarely taken off his wife's favourite necklace, had always kept it safe and hidden under his clothes, with the only exception of social events when he put it on display.

Slowly, giving her grandson ample time to close the jewellery case, Lucyna pulled her daughter's cross from the soft cushion it sat upon. She stepped behind her grandson and put the chain around his neck, closing it carefully.

Stiles brushed the tips of his fingers over the delicate piece of jewellery. "Dad always said that he could have bought nothing but a titanium charm for her, because it was one of the few metals that closely resembled the strength of his love for her." Reaching for the promise-ring, he turned it between his fingers. He kissed the cold metal before putting it on his pinkie.

"That's the ring he proposed with." Stiles' grandmother remembered, "It was not much, the diamond is quite small, but he had bought with the money from his first trade. Claudia loved that ring because in her mind it resembled your father perfectly. He had been such a unique man, of strong mind and determined in everything he had done. But he had overthrown all of his plans for the future, had broken his own life to make room for your mother in it. He had always kept her close to his heart."

Hugging her grandson, fighting back tears that would surely ruin her makeup, Lucyna Stilinski reminded the teenager. "You have the best of both of them in you, Stiles. Their determination and their love helped them to build the empire you have inherited. Put these qualities to good use and there will be nothing that can stand in your way."

Stiles lowered his eyes, embarrassed by the compliment, but his best friend just nudged him, "Hey, you tamed a bunch of werewolves. What more proof do you need?"

With a tiny nod and a warm smile, Stiles stepped in front of the bureau again, handing his jacket over to Scott before pulling a small holster from the top-drawer, fixating it over his shoulders and on his belt. He accepted the jacket from Scott, making sure the bands of leather were entirely hidden before pulling out his father's gun, checking it carefully before loading it and putting it at the small of his back.

Scott was amazed at transformation from his best friend to the Don of a family that operated beyond the borders of central California by now. Scott had known the Stilinskis his entire life, but until now he had never realized how very similar Stiles was to his father. John … the Sheriff, had been a natural leader. People had followed him, inspired by the loyalty he showed them and his strong will. Nana Stilinski was right, Stiles had inherited these traits from his father, and by wearing his suit the change became even more palpable.

~ * ~

Nothing of the jittery teenager remained when Stiles offered his grandmother his arm, guiding her out of his parents' bedroom and down the stairs to where the limousine would pick them up shortly. Jasper had already been hired at the beginning of the week. When they entered the foyer, all eyes turned towards them. Melissa was breathing out in shock, "John …," when seeing Stiles, wavering slightly at the sight of the teenager in his father's clothes.

All the others seemed shocked as well by the stunning resemblance, with the exception of Derek and the twins. While Derek had known the Sheriff, he had been too young to heed his general appearance and the power he had been extruding the few times they had talked. He had been a good man, feeling like strength and iron determination but at the same time like comfort. Derek had liked him, but had never gotten the chance to really know him since it had always been his mother who had done business with the Stilinski family.  The twins had never had the chance to have any business dealings with his father.

Jasper was the one who didn't react the slightest to Stiles changed appearance. With a deep bow he held open the door, greeting the teenager politely, "Mr. Stilinski."

"Jasper," Stiles answered, too dressed up in his working persona to goof around. "Glad you could make it. This is going to be a long evening, I hope you are equipped properly."

Dutifully, the chauffeur nodded, "With book and gun, as always."

The truth was, Jasper had rarely been armed when working for Stiles. However, he had always carried when working for Claudia or John and apparently he had foreseen that tonight would be one of the nights to better come prepared.

~ * ~

When they arrived at the ball, the gentleman at the door actually had the audacity to ask for Stiles and his grandmother's invitation. When Stiles shot him a withering look, he asked for support from his superior, but still refused to let him pass. When one of the promoters of the ball arrived, you could see the embarrassment on his face and he apologized verbosely. At the end he merely said, "We were very sorry to hear about your loss. Please, we hope that you and your charming companion will enjoy the evening."

Lucyna had beforehand decided to not reveal her identity until absolutely necessary. Though her akin features made it quite obvious that the two of them were related, she neither wanted to confirm or deny it. The humiliated doorman returned to his polite but stern behaviour when he checked the tickets of the rest of the Stilinski-family though not without blushing because Danny was flirting with him shamelessly.

Ethan, standing by his side, swatted his arm once they had passed the foyer, but Danny only shrugged, smiling innocently. "Come on, tell me you didn't enjoy me humiliating him after the show he had made."

"You should remember that you are with me tonight Danny, and that I can rip any of your unwanted suitors to pieces if you test me." Ethan deadpanned, but Danny dismissed the warning easily, turning towards him and kissing him devotedly, "Suitors are never unwanted but with you by my side entirely unnecessary. You know that there will never be anyone but you to hold my heart."

Placated by the open display of affection, Ethan offered his arm and the two of them caught up with Stiles and his grandmother, following the Stilinskis down the grand staircase that led to the ballroom.

~ * ~

Stiles knew the faces of the important people. He barely looked at the crowd that mingled on the open floor. He remembered these social gatherings all too well. His father had thought them a useless waste of time and money, but still had bowed to the necessity of discussing business in an open forum.

Since this was an important event on the social calendar, people from the entire West Coast attended. So he and his grandmother had a drink and enjoyed a dance or two before they retreated to the open balcony on the first floor that overlooked a beautiful and artistically groomed garden. Scott and Allison were not far away and Derek was constantly hovering, but understood the need for privacy now and then, even when out in the open. The werewolf might not like it, but he had accepted Stiles' unspoken demand to be left alone on the balcony.

"We didn't expect to see you here, this year," came a highly sophisticated voice interrupted the quiet and when Stiles and his grandmother turned around they came face to face with someone, Stiles had not expected to see here either.

"Well," Stiles turned around, opening his jacket so that he could reach the gun at the small of his back easier, should that become necessary. "We had nothing planned for the evening so I thought to myself: Why not? I have not been in San Francisco for quite some time."

"It's dangerous to leave your territory unguarded," the gentleman replied. "People could get ideas, might even try to take it from you."

Smiling predatorily, Stiles responded softy, "I said that I have not been here in a while, not that my territory is unguarded. Now that you can see, did you lose your ability to listen?"

A low growl made Derek, Scott and Allison step out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind them to shield them from public eyes.

"I have not seen you in quite some time, Scott." The man turned around, flashing his red eyes at the approaching Alpha. "I'm surprised that after our last encounter you still follow Stiles around, like a loyal lapdog. Don't you think you can be more than that?"

"You see me now," was all Scott said, refusing to rise to the bait, still he flashed his eyes warningly, not backing down from the other Alpha.

Feeling the tension rising, especially in Derek since he didn't know more about the other werewolf than that he had just taunted his Alphas, Stiles interrupted the wolves jovially, "My, my, where are my manners? Nana, let me introduce you to … well, business associate is not really true and we have left a potential killer behind us, since we had parted somewhat amicably. So let's make this easy, this is Deucalion and the lovely, quiet woman by his side is Kali. Lady and gentleman, this is my grandmother."

Realizing that there was nothing to gain from a stand-off with Scott, true Alpha, Deucalion turned around and politely took the woman's hand, brushing a kiss on it. "It's a pleasure. May I ask what brings you to town?"

Not letting the easy posture fool her, Lucyna smiled sharply, "Well, visiting my grandson of course. Despite doing well on his own, I was slightly surprised by the amounts of wolfsbane, mountain ash and rowan-wood he requested. I wanted to see first handed how he was putting it to use."

~ * ~


	26. New Customers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something old, something new. Wait no, that's for a wedding and we are only attending a ball this evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude goes to 'Memprime' who made my writing all better and to 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene' who is so devoted to my story that she even told me, that I have forgotten to send her another chapter. That and she is really fast. So thanks to her I have another chapter ready for you, as good as it can get.
> 
> Warning: There is a lot of 'mafia' stuff going on here, so this one is definitely not nice.

At that bold introduction even Deucalion and Kali looked surprised. Sure the battle in Beacon Hills had left no doubt in their minds that Stiles was well aware of the supernatural. But the idea that a mobster like him – who had done well for themselves with humans – was supplying beyond the usual drugs came as a surprise.

Stiles chuckled at his grandmother's forceful introduction, looking at his feet to keep his smile mostly to himself, Stiles added to his previous introduction, "Lucyna Stilinski, head of the Stilinski Family in Europe."

"And you are doing business with supernaturals?" Kali asked surprised. She had gotten to know Stiles and Scott as determined and loyal to each other and their family, willing to put their own lives on the line to protect those they loved, but that extensive form of business came as a surprise.

"I," the elderly woman corrected her, "am doing business with the members of my family. Who they keep as customers is not my concern."

"But you are supplying wolfsbane," Kali insisted.

"I am supplying whatever is needed." Unperturbed that she was facing two highly dangerous Alphas, Lucyna smiled and told her grandson. "And I need you to supply me with a drink right now. All this talk about business made me thirsty."

"Allow me, Mrs. Stilinski," Deucalion stepped forth, offering his arm. Exchanging a look with her grandson, the woman smiled at the now charming man and took him up on his offer. At a small gesture of Stiles, Scott and Allison followed them, shadowing Stiles' grandmother.

"You are not trusting him," Kali decided, watching the true Alpha and his hunter-girlfriend follow her Alpha.

Charming, Stiles smiled, offering his own arm, "No further than I can throw him. Would you do the honour of joining me for a dance?"

Intrigued by the easy switch, Kali took Stiles arm, "And your lapdog will follow?"

"Derek," Stiles stated sharply, "is here as my protection. In case you have forgotten, I am nothing but a fragile human."

"A fragile human who holds the territory of Central California and had just faced down the demon-wolf. That don't sound very fragile to me." She teased, but after a moment a thought came to her mind. "Derek … as in Derek Hale? Your latest pet is one of Talia's children?"

"Stop calling him a pet, you don't want me to call you a mongrel either." Stiles rebuked, looking at her angrily.

At Kali's low growl, Derek stepped up to them, but instead of looking away from Stiles she threatened under her breath, "Stay away little wolf. I killed my entire pack, my emissary and absorbed all of their powers. You don't have the slightest chance against me."

Pulling Kali closer, Stiles told her coldly, "I have mountain-ash in my pocket, wolfsbane-bullets in my weapon, and a pack of wolves who are ready to either protect me or defend my honour should you hurt me severely. Are you sure that this is a fight you want to get into, Kali?"

Looking at the human Alpha, calculating for a second, aware that he – as opposed to his werewolf counterpart – did not have the slightest qualms about killing someone, she smiled brightly and asked, "You asked me for a dance. Maybe we should start with that before the maiming begins."

As expected, Stiles led her to the dance floor where Deucalion and his grandmother enjoyed a slow waltz. Stiles could see Derek's distress of being so far away from him. But he could not waltz onto the dance-floor alone and neither could he pull Stiles away from Kali. This was a social event after all, not fit for making a scene.

All of a sudden Melissa McCall appeared by his side. Straightening her stole, she remarked, "You look like you want to dance."

"I … Stiles is … Kali and Deucalion are dangerous." Derek pressed out from between clenched teeth. The name 'demon-wolf' brought back many bad memories of stories his mother had told him once. Deucalion might have been a great Alpha in the past, but he had succumbed to delusions of grandeur and insanity had overtaken him when he had chosen to make his way through America, picking up werewolves he forced to kill their own Alphas just to take their strength in the end. He was known to be blind, but clearly that weakness had been widely exaggerated.

Still, Derek was surprised to hear from Melissa a quiet, "Don't I know it." Before she turned towards him and offered her hand, "So let's get closer."

"I'm … not a very good dancer." Derek admitted, but the female wouldn't let herself be discouraged by that admission. "Don't worry. Just come on and follow my lead and I promise to bring you into a seven foot radius of Stiles."

When Deucalion returned Stiles' grandmother to the teenager's side, he once again kissed her hand charmingly, before indicating a bow towards Stiles. He was the Alpha of this territory – at least when it came to business – Deucalion was willing to accept that, in hope of successful business associations with him in the future. Remembering something he had overheard, he stated quietly, "Watch your back."

He could see the surprise in Stiles' eyes, but when Stiles took Deucalion's proffered hand, he heard him replying, "I will, thanks for the warning."

~ * ~

"They are leaving," Scott's confusion was written all over his face when a part of the guests left the ball not long after midnight.

Sipping his sparkling water, since the sparkling wine tasted like grapes gone bad to him, Stiles shrugged. "Well they are about to discuss business. All caring about secrecy and the symbolic importance of the witching hour. As if any of them knew …"

"But why are you not going after them? You want to continue … working with them, don't you?" his best friend asked.

But the Don of the Stilinski Family in America smiled predatory, "Because a Stilinski doesn't go after anybody."

Stiles clinked his glass with his grandmother, when the woman nodded approvingly. "If they want to continue a business relationship with Stiles, they will come to him. All will happen in good time, Scott. We just have to be patient."

"I give them half an hour tops," the young man pondered, putting his empty glass back on a tray when a waiter passed him, offering his hand to Allison who hovered behind her boyfriend. "Enough time for another dance or two. Would you give me the honour Allison?"

"Twenty minutes," Lydia remarked, taking Aiden's arm when he offered it gallantly.

Mischief glinting in his eyes Stiles nodded. "It's a bet," he said while guiding the first person who had ever put her life on the line for his, out on the dance-floor.

Allison's dress was made of shimmering brown satin with a sparkling body-piece that glittered with millions of light-blue shards of crystal. It reflected the eye-colour of both of her boyfriends and Allison had talked about nothing else after she had found it. Stiles had the feeling that this dress would get a lot of action, but since it looked gorgeous he wouldn't say anything. While waltzing over the dance-floor, they discussed the security of the conference room the mobsters were using.

Ever since John Stilinski had invited this girl into his home as a protection for his son, Allison had taken her job very seriously. Trained as a hunter since before she could even wonder about how training with a crossbow might not be normal behaviour for a girl in elementary school, she had always made it her first priority to know everything about the territory they were approaching, be that wood, field or town. She wore a beautiful, silver necklace that ended with a sparkling gem, but Stiles knew this piece of jewellery to expand into a whip-like weapon, just like he knew that her bodice hid at least two knives.

They got the chance to enjoy three dances together, discussing exit strategies if you were surrounded by a dozen men of less than favourable reputation, when Lydia took over. They didn't talk, they didn't have to. Lydia was – in all means and purposes – Stiles' right hand when it came to business. She was the only one in their tight knit circle of friends who could keep up with his lightning-fast mind, could anticipate his intentions better than anybody else, and if there was a single person who knew the numbers of his trade as good as Stiles it was Lydia.

The young Don had to trust someone with his business while he was at work, and with her unique ability and her brilliant mind Lydia had – in all years of their association – not once disappointed him. True, he had had a massive crush on her in high school, but once he had been forced to grow up by learning more and more about his parents' line of work, he had realized that he had been more in love with the idea of Lydia Martin than with the girl herself. Why Stiles always fell for those he could not have was beyond him, but these days Lydia was a friend he trusted with his own life and those lives he was responsible for. Dancing really did nothing more than re-attuning themselves to each other.

At least until, "Eighteen minutes and ten seconds, I win." The gorgeous redhead stated and at the next turn Stiles could see a few of the men who had left the ball before. Obviously they had come to realize that they needed the Stilinski family to do business. Deciding that he would not let them wait, nobody liked an arrogant winner, Stiles kissed Lydia's hand before he approached his grandmother, offering his arm.

When the two of them approached the men, they at least had the decency to lower their eyes for a moment, before inviting Stiles to join them. After the first few steps, Stiles hesitated, briefly looking over his shoulder where Scott and Derek were hovering. "Enjoy the evening, I won't need you for the next hour."

This time, both Scott and Derek whined under their breath, but nodded their consent, stepping away from Stiles. Lydia however, just passed between them, catching up with the heads of her family. One of the goons held her back, grumbling roughly, "Didn't you hear, little lady? The boss doesn't need any of you?"

Grumbling? Really? It was understandable that men in their position enjoyed to live the good life, but alcohol and cigarettes were not the only available sources of nutrition, like the voice of this guy suggested. However, Stiles barely turned around when warning, "If you touch her, you will regret it. She's my right hand, so you better step back."

Surprised but not contradicting the demand, the guy held the door open for Stiles and the two women joining him. The pack felt distinctively uneasy when the doors closed behind their leader, but after a few, deep breaths Allison took control of the situation. She guided the pack to where they could guarantee an efficient and fast exit should it come to that, soothing some of the nerves that were evident.

Derek felt … jittery, nervous and very uneasy because of Stiles being in there alone, practically defenceless. As a wolf who had lived in New York for several years, he was used to being alone and in complete control of the situation. But here, in unknown territory with his human Alpha locked away from them, without a way to get to him, he felt his stomach rolling. He didn't even realize that he was pulling on his sleeves, playing with his buttons and carding his hand through his hair far more often than necessary. Not that it was necessary at all, the stuff Lydia had put into it at the beginning of the evening made it resemble a security helmet.

Scott was the one who finally took mercy on him, making eye-contact with Ethan who took his position, guiding Derek away towards one of the luxurious toilets on the second floor. Checking that they were alone, Scott took Derek's face between his hands and touched their foreheads. He had heard Derek's heartbeat speeding up as soon as Stiles had left the room.

True, he too was no big fan of these situations, but sometimes they could not be avoided. And Scott trusted Stiles and Lydia implicitly. The banshee would let them know if something was going on. Calmingly rubbing Derek's neck, waiting for his heartbeat to slow a little, Scott assured him, "Everything is going to be alright, and even if something is about to happen, we have it covered. This is not the first time that Stiles and Lydia are alone with business partners."

Revelling in the proximity of the Alpha, it was not the right one but better than nothing, Derek finally managed to calm down. "I know, I just … we can't hear what's going on inside. We won't have any warning if things go south."

Derek was surprised but did not fight Scott when the teenager turned his head around. "You don't …? Oh, shit. No wonder you are out of your mind with worry." Confused the werewolf watched the teenager pull out the black ear-stud he was wearing. He had always thought them some kind of gang-symbol, something even the girls used, but hadn't given any more thought to it. Now Scott was holding it up, looking apologetic, "Sorry, but this is going to hurt. It has to be closed all the way for it to work."

Confused what this was all about, Derek's didn't move when Scott dug the little steel-bolt through his earlobe, closing it carefully by screwing back and front together. The tiny wound was already healing, but the wolf jerked back when all of a sudden Stiles voice filled his ear, "No, we won't. You buy or you don't but I am not here to negotiate territory. My parents had built up their area and reputation from the ground, most of you know this since you have been around the entire time. They might not be here any longer but I am. And don't think for a single second that I won't keeping my inheritance. So this can go either way, meet my terms or don't, but you all know that there is no way of evading me in this part of California."

"And in about ten years the rest of the country." Lydia's voice. Calm and composed, like she was explaining facts and not estimations. "We are expanding our trade. In about a decade the rest of California will be ours as well. You can go with it and increase your profit. Mr. Stilinski has big plans. The Stilinski family won't back down, just because Claudia and John's son is now leading it."

~ * ~

Looking each and every man in the eye, and also gazing up at the women behind them, Stiles leaned forward a little. "I know that I am young, inexperienced most would say, but there has been no set-back in business ever since I took over. I might not have worked as fast or as ambitiously as my father, but I sure as hell can achieve anything I put my mind to. And that includes control of California."

Smiling predatorily at Deucalion, the teenager continued, "Some of you know me, have already done business with me, or met me under different circumstances. I can assure you: I am a sure way to increase, your profit, your influence, and your territory. Go with me and you have a trustworthy partner. My product is clean, I don't hoodwink, I pay promptly and the people I am working with are reliable. I'm open for new ideas but whatever comes my way, I won't back down. Not now, not ever; my parents taught me better than that."

And with that Stiles rose from his seat, offering his hand to his grandmother who had not said a single word and guided her to the door, Lydia following suit. It became apparent that not everybody agreed with his introduction into the life of organized crime when the girl pushed Stiles away from the door, holding up her purse to catch the knife one of the guys had thrown at Stiles' back with an angry hiss.

Whipping around, pulling his ever present blade out of the gun-holster on his back, Stiles returned the favour, but since he was faster than expected and nobody seemed to have this guy's back, he hit his attackers shoulder with deadly precision. Approaching him, while Deucalion reached over and muffled the thugs agonized – and totally disproportionate shouts of pain – Stiles pulled the blade free, not looking at any of the Dons who had let this happen but had not been bold enough to attack him themselves.

He looked each of them in the eye before briefly glancing towards Deucalion. A nod from the demon-wolf assured Stiles that he would handle the situation, so he left, not returning the blade that was still embedded in Lydia's purse.

~ * ~

As soon as he had left the room, Scott and Derek stepped behind his back, shielding him from behind, while Aiden took away the ruined purse, securing the blade it held.

They could leave now. Stiles had proven his point, but the boss of the Stilinski family decided that it was worth the risk to linger a little. A good idea as it turned out, because between canapés and sparkling wine, a few of the representatives of the other clans came to him to talk.

At the end of the evening he had re-established business-connections with half of his family's' former partners and had a very good inkling that he would see the Duke again very soon. And while Stiles had been surprised for the werewolf to have his back, he surely was grateful for it. The demon-wolf was fierce enemy and not someone Stiles wanted on top of the list of his enemies. He might not be considered a friend right now, but maybe that would change.

It was around three when they finally left the ball, Jasper driving them to a hotel in the area, since Stiles wanted to check in with a few of his business partners in the area.

~ * ~

Derek had been surprised when they had checked into a hotel in the morning. An entire floor had been booked for them and the little toys Danny placed in the corners of the corridor went a long way to ease Derek's mind when the demon-slash-hacker started a monitoring program on his laptop in the main suit. Danny had given the frequency of the cameras to Isaac and Lydia who could access the footage from their own computers. The motion sensors he had set up were under watch by no less than three different machines.

A two-bedroom-suite had been booked for Stiles, and after taking a shower and a light meal he retreated to his bedroom. Derek thought that he should go to bed as well, but he still remembered Allison's warning being broadcasted through the surveillance channel that there was about to be an attack. He recalled his gut wrenching fear at Lydia's harsh intake of breath and the assault on Stiles that Derek had not been able to prevent because he had not been allowed to be close. At least in here he could keep an eye, or more an ear, on Stiles.

He listen as the boy rummaged through his things briefly before going to bed. Derek sat on the sofa, but was too jittery to find any peace. What would he have done if Stiles had been seriously injured today? He was only human after all; he could have died from such an attack.

Stiles' partially amused but mostly tired voice pulled him out of his musings. The teenager stood in the doorway, managing to have crept up on the unfocused wolf and was now watching the restless man who walked ditches into the carpet, "Derek, undress and come to bed. If you can't sleep in your own, surely you will be calmer in mine." And with that he turned around, leaving the door to his bedroom open.

He should be scared or worried, and a month prior he most definitely would have been when hearing these words. But tonight Derek was only grateful. Stiles allowed him close and when he wrapped around the teenager from behind, there was no doubt in Derek's mind that he would be able to repel any kind of attack that might occur.

Aware that this might not have been the way Stiles had thought this night to pass, Derek whispered after a few minutes. "I'm sorry."

But the boy only chuckled lowly, "You are my bodyguard. You are supposed to worry about me, that's the main part of your job description. But for tonight do it with your eyes closed. We are safe here, we know the personnel of this hotel, the area, the rooms. Everything is taken care of. Just sleep. You will feel better in the morning."

He would feel most definitely better in the morning, Derek knew that much. But not because this hotel was 'theirs' or these rooms were secured by fancy surveillance systems, but because being allowed to sleep at Stiles' side always made him feel better, and a part of Derek didn't want to look too closely at that fact.

~ * ~


	27. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek learns something new about Stiles ... and himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the steady support of 'Memprime' and 'Wecantgiggleitsacrimescene' we have yet another chapter for you.

Derek always remembered the day of the attack on his family by Kate Argent as if it had occurred yesterday. Barely fifteen years old, had he been allowed to witness his first major deal. He was expected to stay in the car and listen in. His parents and closest family had worked together to explore a new market and the deal was to be finalized that night.

Barely a heartbeat after his mother and their new business partners had shaken hands, Derek had felt an overwhelming pain spreading through his body. His chest had felt like it was on fire, his heart raw and bleeding like it had been ripped apart.

His mother had barely had been able to control her change. Dad had steered her away from their business partners and once they were gone she had turned and howled in agony. The same had happened to the other wolf-members of his family.

When they had finally returned back home, their house had been enveloped by twenty feet high flames, mountain-ash encircling it to keep everybody in and the new arrivals out. John Stilinski had been the one to break the circle, and after a brief struggle with Peter who escaped his grasp and ran towards the burning house, had kept his mother from following him. How he had been strong enough to hold back an in pain alpha werewolf Derek had never known, but in the end the man had kept Derek's mother alive by stopping her from entering.

Peter had tried to reach his pregnant wife who had burned alive inside. He had survived, but only barely because one of their people had pulled him away as he got close to the burning building. The pain of his uncle's howl had nearly broken Derek's heart. In the end, all they could do was watch the firemen do their job, standing in front of a home that was going up in flames.

> When his mother had found out who had been responsible, she had sent him away with Laura, who had just finished high school, as his only guardian. He had never dared to return without being prompted.
> 
> _But now, Derek found himself in the middle of the clearing in front of his home. He looked around, confused as to how he had gotten there. When he saw Kate leaving the house, he wanted to intercept her, keep her from pushing down the button that would detonate the small bombs he knew to be inside, but he was unable to move._
> 
> _Derek was trapped, not by mountain ash; another invisible force was holding him in place. He opened his mouth to shout, to wake his family but no words came out. He fought with all his might, but was unable to do anything. Helplessly he had to watch Kate walking the perimeter of his home, letting mountain ash tickle out of a pouch she held in her hand, sealing his family's fate._
> 
> _He shouted and struggled and begged and cried but the cruel hunter did not even react until the circle was complete. Standing in front of his home, she grinned menacingly when she pushed the button down to ignite the explosives._
> 
> _Everything had been carefully measured, because though the house started to go up in flames almost immediately, the woods around it remained untouched. The panicked cries of his family overwhelmed Derek. He tried to cover his ears and look away but he was unable to move, forced to listen to his family die. Derek finally broke down into a sobbing mess on the forest floor, soundlessly howling in agony._

~ * ~

"What the hell, Derek! WAKE UP!"

With a cry of anguish Derek shot up from bed, ripping through the covers, heart trying to beat out of his chest. Looking around frantically, the werewolf realized that he was still in the hotel in San Francisco, Stiles sitting by his side, touching his ear, and talking quietly. Despite his enhanced senses, the man was not able to understand the teenager's words over his own frantic heartbeat. At least not until Stiles purposefully addressed him.

"Derek, put away the claws!"

Looking confused from Stiles, who held an ash-tray full of a dark powder in his hand, to his own fingers, Derek realized that he was tearing the bed-covers. Shivering from the adrenalin that was still coursing through his system, Derek closed his eyes and put his hands in his lap, taking deep breaths to calm himself, but it was a herculean effort to find enough peace to change back when the pictures of his nightmare still were so vivid in his mind. Helplessly, he opened his eyes again, looking at his transformed hands.

"I can't," he whispered brokenly, shaking his head. Ashamed about his lack of control, Derek was barely able to contain the shivers that wretched his frame. "It was same as it had been with you tonight. When I had to listen to you getting attacked without being able to intervene. I … I dreamt about the night my family … the fire. I couldn't do anything but listen, without any chance to reach them."

Hushed Stiles mumbled, "I remember …," before putting away the ash-tray, pulling Derek into his arms. The wolf went, reluctantly because he still was unable to transform back to his human form, but Stiles didn't seem to have a problem with his claws. Instead he wrapped his arms around the werewolf, pulling him to his chest, hugging him close so that Derek had his steady heartbeat under his ear.

"There is a reason you didn't receive a communicator until now." Stiles whispered. "Scott and Isaac are worried, but they don't get nightmares from listening in on an attack. They trust me."

"I want to trust you," Derek swallowed thickly against his constricting throat. "But you are only human …"

Smiling down at the werewolf, Stiles hugged him even closer. "I'm more than human, but it's okay. You will learn to have faith. You have a lot of time." And with that Stiles kissed Derek's unruly hair, wrapping them both tightly into the torn comforter before dozing off again.

It was impossible for Derek to find any more sleep that day. Stiles' heartbeat was a steady reminder that his Alpha was alright, but for the first time in forever, he was held by another person like … like he was more than a mere acquaintance. It was different when he was a wolf and it was different from hugging someone because you needed to keep him safe. This, chest to chest was intimate in a way Derek had not felt in a long time.

Sure he had been close to others in New York. Laura had allowed him to sleep in her bed when he had felt scared, hugging him from behind to make him feel safe. He had had a string of one-night-stands because his wolf sometimes needed the thrill of a chase. He had picked up his partners in clubs or in coffee shops, but both had known what they wanted and enjoyed it, never looking for more. He had never woken up with a lover by his side because one-night-stands tended to avoid the awkward 'morning after'.

But now, with Stiles, it was different. Everything was different with this boy, with this pack, in this situation and Derek didn't know what to feel any longer. Stiles gave him cute pet-names when they talked, only used his real name when he gave an order like you would with a dog. But he didn't treat Derek like the dog he had been given as, and the young man's heart didn't know what to make of that. He just knew that he could not lose Stiles, that seeing him hurt or injured tore him apart.

~ * ~

When Scott and Lydia walked in on them around lunchtime, carrying a big tray with brunch, they didn't address the two of them being wrapped in a tight embrace. It might have been selfish, since Stiles had only embraced him to ease his nightmare, but Derek had stayed all night, unwilling or unable to let go.

Stiles had hugged him for another second longer and then moved away to use the bathroom before hopping back into bed to enjoy breakfast. Scott and Lydia shared as well and the fourth cup on the tray clearly indicated Derek had been thought of too. They were talking business since it was pretty late already, mentioning names and people Derek had never heard of before.

When Stiles finally rose to dress, Scott took out a zip-lock back from the nightstand, pouring the powder from the ash-tray carefully back into it. When Stiles emerged from the bathroom, shaved and impeccably dressed again, he shook his head. "Scotty, don't do that. You’ll hurt yourself if you are not careful."

"A good exercise then." His best friend answered, tipping the last of the ash into the zip-lock, offering it to Stiles with a grin before leaving.

Before he went to the bathroom himself, Derek asked, "Why do you keep mountain ash on your nightstand?"

With an earnest expression, Stiles answered, "Because nightmares are common for all of us. If you surround yourself with werewolves, you learn how to deal when they lose control. You could have attacked me last night, not because you wanted to, but because of your dreams. I have learned to protect myself at all times so that the members of my pack can be at ease around me. They all know that I will not allow them to hurt me, no matter what."

"Has that happened before?" Derek wondered.

Brushing off the question, Stiles urged him, "Go and change. We have a meeting in less than an hour and the Desert Wolf doesn't like people being late."

~ * ~

They drove south until they reached Pacifica, a small town south of San Francisco and then headed towards the cliffs. Jasper parked the car close to the road and only opened the door after Isaac had nodded permission. The pack strolled towards the sea, keeping an eye on the inhospitable landscape.

Derek briefly watched a little family with mother, father and a teenage daughter making a picnic overlooking the sea. He headed further north, taking his cues from Scott and Isaac who spilled out over the cliffs, taking position at regular intervals along with the rest of the pack. Only when the little family put away most of her food, opening a bottle of wine, did Stiles approach them. Maybe the teenager wanted these civilians to get out of here, before his meeting this 'Desert Wolf' character.

Still, Derek kept close and Stiles didn't protest; apparently he was accepting of the werewolf's protective instincts. Therefore, Derek was more than surprised when the teenage girl rose and smiled brightly at him. She hugged Stiles before Derek could intervene but pulled back, wrinkling her nose. "You reek of wolf."

"No, really? Who would have thought?" Stiles answered sarcastically, before the girl continued after taking another smell. "You reek of him," pointing at Derek.

Grinning, Stiles invited Derek to join them, "Derek, this is Malia, her mother the Desert Wolf and her mother's enforcer. Everybody, meet Derek, the latest addition to the pack."

Malia didn't step back, she didn't even let go of Stiles. Her hands stayed firmly around the teenager's waist and Derek couldn't suppress a growl at the possessive gesture. He was surprised when the girl let her eyes flash blue and noticed the 'got you' smile she flashed him with way too many teeth before opening her arms.

"You are Talia Hale's son, aren't you?" her mother asked, her eyes flaring up in a bright red, looking at her daughter who stepped back, looking entirely innocent.

Taking his cue from Stiles who nodded at him, he lowered his head respectfully before answering, "Yes, ma’am." He had taken in the scent of this little 'family' and had found them to be were-coyotes. Though not stronger than wolves, they were more dexterous and no easy opponents to overcome. Best to remain cautious.

"Your mother refused to trade with me, do you share her opinion?" The question was phrased calmly and the woman appeared open and friendly, but Derek had learned never to take things at face value. This pack had only been the latest proof that often people were more than met the eye.

So he answered politely, "That's not my decision, ma’am."

"You're a werewolf, Stiles is only human. Surely you have a say."

Derek could more feel than see the smile Stiles successfully supressed when he answered, "He still is my Alpha, and even if he wasn’t, it would be the wolf-Alpha's decision and Scott trusts his Don to make the right choice."

Satisfied with the answer the woman turned towards Stiles. "How long?"

"Since the last full moon."

"By choice."

Looking at Derek considering, Stiles shook his head. "We would have told him sooner or later, but no, not by choice. Still, he has proven his loyalty to the Stilinski-McCall-pack. I trust him."

Closing his eyes, Derek allowed himself to bask in the warm surge Stiles' words summoned in him. This pack, his pack at least for the time being, trusted him. Stiles had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe it really was. But for Derek it was so much harder to trust and given such an open vote of trust and he had to fight to keep his emotions in check.

He stepped back from Stiles, leaving his Alpha to deal with the people he had come to see today. Mostly he watched the surroundings, barely paying their business partners any attention since that could be interpreted as rude. But whenever he looked at the coyotes, Malia's gaze was fixed on him. The playful and provocative girl was gone. She was serious and attentive to the trade that was discussed between her mother and the Stilinski-family. Still she kept looking at him as though he were a particularly interesting riddle she wanted to decipher.

~ * ~

After an hour, the Desert Wolf and Stiles had finalized their trade and finished their deal with a simple handshake. Lydia had approached them in the middle of it, taking notes on her tablet and had developed a draft for their business contract. Malia had given her the right address, so that the redhead could send it to them for review before it would be signed.

Derek knew that contracts were useful these days, but in the end it always came down to meetings like this. Meetings in neutral territories, where deals were made and the general concepts were agreed upon. After they were finished, Malia hugged Stiles again, before pulling Derek aside, hugging him as well.

"You can consider yourself lucky, you know. Stiles might be young, but he is a good boy and if you hurt him, I will rip your heart out and let you watch while I eat it." The teenager stated pleasantly, the tone of her voice betraying nothing of the cruelties with which she had just threatened him with.

Confused, Derek reminded her, "I am his bodyguard. The last thing I would allow is for anybody to hurt him. I would protect him with my life!"

With a small smile, she shook her head. "I hope for the sake of my friend that there is more to you than mere loyalty. In all the time I have known Stiles, he never went anywhere without showering to wash away whatever scent clung to him, keeping his associations hidden."

Irritated by these cryptic words, Derek shook his head, only to have the girl shake her head and step back from him.

"He didn't wash off your scent. Think about what that means on the drive back to Beacon Hills."

Dazed, Derek stepped back when the teenager finally released him.

They had … not had enough time for Stiles to take a proper shower. What other reason could there be for the teenager to not wash away his scent?

If Derek was honest with himself he enjoyed smelling himself on Stiles. When they piled into the car later, Derek stole Lydia's seat next to Stiles. Instead of protesting, the redhead had sat with her boyfriend, working on the treaty between the packs.

Stiles was talking to his grandmother about business opportunities connected to some rare bands of wolfs-bane that grew in abundance in Europe. On Stiles' tablet they went over the different branches of that special plant and their potential use, deciding which would work best with the clients Stiles supplied. She promised to look into it right after her departure the next day.

Nobody but Scott seemed to notice the turmoil that kept Derek's thoughts in a blur. He had his arm loosely on the backrest of Allison's seat while the young woman was sharpening her weapons. Casually Scott stretched his legs, aligning them with Allison's, and briefly covered her hand with his when the girl caressed his upper leg absentmindedly, before he looked pointedly at Derek.

Anxious about what would happen, Derek mirrored Scott's actions after another encouraging nod from the Alpha. He fidgeted in his seat for a moment, before pressing his leg against Stiles', seemingly by accident. Just like Allison had, Stiles briefly brushed over Derek's upper leg, keeping it in place as if to show the werewolf that he didn't mind the proximity before tapping his handheld-computer again, sharing with his grandmother the extent of supernatural creatures in his territory.

Derek had a hard time keeping his breath even when the teenager shifted in his seat as well, returning his hand to Derek's leg whenever he was not operating his little computer. Stiles had not washed off his scent, was touching him like Allison was touching Scott, like Aiden was touching Lydia, idly like it was the most natural thing in the world. The born werewolf needed all the self-control he had been taught throughout his life to keep his heart from sky-rocketing through the roof as the implications of what this could mean were too much for him to even consider.

~ * ~


	28. Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek get's a closer look at some books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always my gratitude goes to 'Wecantgiggleatacrimescene' and 'Memprime ' for keeping up with me and helping me to make this story as good as it can get.

For the next few months Derek got slowly used to living with the Stilinski-McCall-Pack. This tight-knit group of teenagers accepted him into their midst, making him a part of the family like it was the easiest thing to do, to trust a complete stranger they knew virtually nothing about. Derek worked the books of the Company, accompanied Stiles to meetings both official and unofficial and trained with the pack to get to know their style.

Isaac was ruthless, Scott cautious, Allison a vicious fighter who stopped at nothing. The twins were a class of their own and it felt like fighting one person in two bodies when Derek faced them. Erica fought dirty and enjoyed using her claws. Boyd – the strongest member of the pack – rarely engaged in a fight but when he did, it was over before you knew it because nobody could match his strength.

Danny and Stiles came as a surprise on the training ground. Both were flawless marksmen, nearly better than Allison with her bow. And while Danny nearly exclusively relied on his guns, Stiles had the irritating knack of fighting with a baseball-bat as well. In the beginning, Derek had tried to advise him against it, but in the end he had given in, realizing the amount of damage Stiles as able to cause with the tool. Very few of their opponents were wolves after all.

Derek learned about how Stiles dealt with his friends and his enemies. He saw how Stiles behaved towards someone who served as his teacher but also deserved his protection. It was quite different from the way Derek's mother Talia treated the emissary of her pack. Stiles was as fiercely protective of Deaton as he was annoyed by the man's cryptic teaching style. The werewolf learned how very little tolerance the mob-boss had for people who were too stupid for their own good. Scott and Ethan took over negotiations with their dealers because the Don of their family had not enough patience to deal with them on a daily basis.

Derek learned that Stiles was a fair and just leader who had only the best intentions when it came to his family, but that he was also the cruel and ruthless head of an international crime-family who would stop at nothing to secure his territory and his market. He had no prejudice against anybody, he traded with representatives of every race and colour, be it supernatural or simple humans and Derek thought Stiles' prediction of taking over Central California in about a decade was very accurate.

~ * ~

It was exactly one week before Christmas, when, on a snowy Friday morning, Lydia kept him from joining Isaac and Stiles on their way to the Red Hood Trading Company. When he looked at Stiles for guidance, the boy only shook his head when fastening the ear-stud. "You're ready. Lydia will familiarize you with your new assignment."

On an afterthought he added with a wink, "And wolf-boy, thank you. What you are doing is much appreciated, in case I haven't mentioned that before."

Confused and more than a little worried, the werewolf turned towards Lydia who put on her soft pelt-lined boots before she gestured for him to follow her to her car. When they pulled out of the garage, Derek asked bewildered, "What … what did I do? Did I do something wrong?" Well he most likely had not, otherwise Stiles would have not thanked him, but the teenager's words had made so little sense to Derek that he could not help but worry.

"On the contrary, Derek, you have done everything exactly right. Otherwise you wouldn't be with me right now." The girl assured him, pulling into the parking lot of their favourite diner, reaching for the oversized bag she had carefully placed on the back seat. Since the bag looked heavy the werewolf interrupted her and reached for it instead, carrying it for the girl as they exited the car.

She smiled but didn't say anything, just entered the diner, passing through the main area to a private room at the back. Coffee was provided as were little colourful cupcakes and cookies. At Lydia's inviting gesture, Derek placed the bag on a table that was big enough to host a dozen people before standing aside to let her open it.

He looked dumbfounded when the young woman pulled out two sleek laptops and mobile phones, connecting everything and powering them up. She booted the phones and established a connection for the first laptop before offering a black ear-stud to Derek. Until now, when they had been on an assignment, Derek had always had to trust his senses about what was going on. He had witnessed the use of this secret connections between the teenagers, but until now had had no chance to share it but for the one night in San Francisco. Now the inconspicuous earring lay in his hand but with it came so much more: he was finally able to be part of the communication, finally being allowed to listen in, finally being trusted.

When he dug the steel tip through his ear-lobe, the hole Scott had caused being long since healed, Lydia explained. "The earrings are enchanted. Everybody believes them to be an insignia of our family, but they are much more than that. Most of the time they allow us to share a line of communication, no matter where we are. Danny and Stiles came up with the idea and we currently still have to find a limit to their range."

Touching her own earring, she continued, "You touch it, either with your fingers or with another part of your bare skin. Even when one of us is tortured or kept somewhere, it should be possible to at least touch your shoulder with your ear. Think of the person you wish to speak to and a one-on-one connection will be established, think of the pack and you can reach everybody."

"This is powerful magic," Derek concluded and Lydia only smiled, plugging in the laptops to keep them charged.

"Try it, we need Danny. Call for him." She ordered, as if it was the easiest thing to do.

Derek tried to concentrate on the incubus, but inevitably his thoughts returned to the Company where Isaac and more importantly Stiles would be at the moment. Tentatively he tried, "Ahm … hello?"

Low chuckles filled his mind, the connection was incredibly strong and instead of hearing the sounds with his ears they flooded his brain. Isaac was the first to speak, "Derek, I take it Lydia gave you your new piece of jewellery." Only to have Stiles pick up from there, "And that you have troubles focussing? Or did you really wanted to call all of us?"

"I'm … ahm …," Derek stuttered. This was far more overwhelming than a simple phone-call. To him it was like he could feel the other people in his head, since the magic transmitted every breath they took. He also knew that Danny was able to hear him as well, but the incubus had not said a word until now.

Comfortingly, Stiles assured the werewolf, "Don't worry pup, all of us had troubles in the beginning. I nearly broadcasted my messages for an entire week and I'm the one who makes these stupid things. Just conjure a picture of the person you want to talk to, maybe even start the communication with the person's name. It's not necessary but it will help you focus."

"Thank you," Derek answered a little more confident now. "Could you stop listening in? I would like to talk to Danny now."

Isaac explained to him softly, "That's not how it works Derek. The magic picks its cues from your emotions as much as from your thoughts. The earrings are powerful tools in helping us to stay connected. The connection will only close if you no longer wish to reach us. It might take a while but surely you will get the hang of it. And don't worry about us listening in at the beginning, for the first month I always established an open line to both Stiles and Scott, sometimes even to Allison. I tried to concentrate really hard but it just wouldn't close."

"How did you manage?" Derek asked, relieved that he was not making a complete fool of himself by being unable to handle this device. He was a little surprised when he heard three chuckles before Isaac spoke once again, "After everything that has happened to me in the past, I seem to have the deep seated need to be tied to both of my Alphas. But I promise to tell you how to close a connection your heart wishes to keep open."

"When?" Derek asked, almost desperately. He knew who he wanted to be close to, who he wanted to hear day in and day out. He had kept to his room during most nights for the last months, aware that allowing himself to be close to Stiles would only make it so much harder to leave him in the end. It would not do him any good to hear every word the teenager was saying every hour of every day.

"When I find out myself," the teenager promised, before returning to his work, mumbling lowly to Meredith. Apparently the user at the other end of the line could concentrate on muting his words, but never conceal them completely.

Helpless Derek looked at Lydia but the teenager only shrugged. "Don't ask me, I never tried to cut the line to Aiden I establish as soon as we put the earring on. But you should really call Danny now. We need him."

Derek nearly snarled and had his claws out, when the young demon stepped out of a dark corner of the room, accompanied by the thick smell of roses. With a crooked smile the teenager assured the red-head. "He established a connection with me right from the beginning. He was just too confused by Isaac and Stiles' presence to address me. I see you have already everything set up and running."

Nodding, the girl stepped aside, "Yes, and now I need you to create a new account."

Taking over the second computer, Danny worked his digital magic and after a few minutes where numbers and letters and lines of code had run over the monitor, Danny stood up and invited Derek to sit down. "Pick a password. Don't tell me, don't tell anyone and please don't use anything unimaginative like your favourite dog, food or family member. You need letters both capital and small and numbers and special characters and it has to be something you can remember. After that you are all set up and ready to go."

After kissing Lydia on the cheek and stealing four cupcakes, the incubus stepped into the shadows and disappeared.

Looking at Lydia, the red head only sipped her coffee, and looked at him expectantly. After a few moments of hesitation, Derek chose a password and the laptop revealed his desktop with numerous programs the young man had never seen before with the exception of one, the book-keeping program the Red Hood Trading Company used.

Without hesitating, Lydia started to explain, pointing at icons on her own desktop that could be found on Derek's as well. "Your computer starts with his own security system and fire-wall. To establish internet connection we use our mobiles. Danny programmed them to send random IPs and we barely use the same place twice in a month to log in. We never use available wireless connections except the one at the house but once logged in there, you are allowed to watch TV or play every game you can think of, but you never – under no circumstances – work there. Are you with me so far?"

"Connecting through the mobile from random locations. No working from home. I'm with you." Derek nodded.

"Good, there are several additional security systems we load before working. These two are for shielding our computers from unwanted attention and the third one is a messenger system exclusive to the Stilinski family. Someone from Europe has programmed it and we are 'encouraged' to use it. You will find everybody there, profiles and descriptions, from Stiles' grandmother, though her profile might be partially hidden from you, to the dealers and hookers we have walking the streets. Still, with me?"

"A few steps behind," Derek admitted. "Why would I need a messenger program that shows me the extent of the Stilinski family?"

"Because, and that's where the fun part begins," the redhead grinned, "You are sharing that one with me. Whatever message I write or receive, you can see it, the same goes the other way around. You write a message, my history will show it. There is no way to delete anything that has ever been sent. There is a cryptographic system encoding all messages and I don't even know where the servers are. Most likely it uses random servers from all over the world."

Nodding slowly, Derek tried to wrap his head around the concept. It made sense that Lydia could see all of his communications. It was the best way to supervise him, but why should he be able to see hers? It really didn't make sense.

"Now, when I receive a message from one of our people and take care of it I flag it like this," she pointed out an easy function in the menu, "and you can see it is taken care of."

"Why would it be any of my business what messages you receive? I don't understand why you are showing me this, Lydia?" Derek finally asked, not able to make heads or tails out of this system.

"Well, so that we don't book expenses or deposits twice," she explained with an expression that said that this really was most obvious.

When Derek shook his head uncomprehending, Lydia clicked the final icon, opening the book-keeping program from the company. But when the werewolf briefly looked over the numbers he realized that these were not the books of the Red Hood Trading Company. He swallowed around his dry throat and his voice broke at the end when he said, "These are the books of the Stilinski family."

"American branch, yes," Lydia confirmed before getting comfortable with another cup of coffee and a pink cupcake. "We have two hours before we have to relocate, we never work for more than three hours at one location at a time. Get an overview and at the beginning of next week I expect you to help me with the input of the bills and credit notes from our dealers and suppliers."

For a few moments Derek was overwhelmed by this revelation. These books were the backbone of the Stilinski crime family. With these even a lawyer fresh out of law-school could build a case against Stiles and every other members of his family that would send them to prison for the rest of their lives. Especially since these were not even written in code. Every transaction was labelled by name, date and place it had occurred.

The numbers were flawless and after a mere hour Derek realized that these books were a thing of ultimate beauty. Things matched up to the very last cent. Lydia's work was methodical and well-arranged. Whoever looked at these bookings could easily unearth every little detail about every person who worked for them. He had been as methodical with his family's books in New York, but never allowed himself the simplicity of calling things by their names. Remembering all of the codenames he had invented had been a feat in itself, and had made it very hard to read the journals he had created in the first place.

"You do not use codes." He mentioned when exactly one-hundred minutes later, as Lydia started to power down her machine and put away the computers.

"No, we don't. It would only make working with it harder and make not the slightest difference in the end." She answered, storing the cupcakes in several boxes that had been set out for them, looking at the table calculatingly before pulling out a fifty and placing it half under the coffee pot.

"What do you mean?"

Once they had entered the car and were on their way to the mall, Lydia revealed, "The moment someone logs into our account in another way than with the mobile-laptop-connection I have shown you, a virus is activated that deletes everything."

"Everything?" Derek asked surprised, "You don’t even have a backup."

"We will go to the mall next, they have a nice atrium and I would like to get a few hours of sunlight, without having to be wrapped up to the nose."

Smiling, Derek looked out of the window. He might have been given access to the books, been trusted with yet another of this family's secrets, yet there were still things he wasn't allowed to know. Instead of feeling irritated, he smiled. These kids were cautious, more cautious than many grown-ups he had come across in this trade. Certainly less trusting than he had been when he had been their age. That was the best way to survive in the world of the organized crime and once again Derek felt proud to be part of such an extraordinary family.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to mention something. As some of you have probably noticed, this story is now a series because there is a pretty good breaking point coming up. It will continue however and I expect the lot of you will stay with me to enjoy the second part. It will be more diverse than this one with the introduction of new points of view but it will be exciting and surely worth reading.
> 
> With the change into a series, also the title of this story has changed because honestly, the main title is the name that was chosen for the tumblr-gift set that inspired me to write this story. I hope that you will continue to have as much fun with the second part as you had with the first. 
> 
> See you around ;).


	29. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no presents with the Stilinski family for Christmas.  
> There are, however, ones for a birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gratitude goes, as always, to my two amazing betareaders "Wecantgiggleatacrimescene" and "memprime.". Their encouragement and support keeps me going.
> 
> I would like to offer one word in advance. It seems to be the general consensus that Derek is a 'Christmas baby'. I have to admit that I was too lazy to double-check that, so please bear with me, when I place Derek's birthday around Christmas. A nice chapter will come from it, I promise ;).

When Lydia and Derek returned after two more relocations, the pack was gathered in the kitchen picking apart boxes of take-away. Apparently nobody had felt the desire to cook. When Stiles chose a box that smelled like spicy beef and offered it to Derek, knowing that he liked that dish best, Derek took it but allowed his hands to linger for a heartbeat. The werewolf's voice was soft when he said, "Thank you."

"Don't," Stiles shook his head with an earnest smile. "You deserve it." Both knew that they were not talking about the food. But their actions masked the true meaning of their words sufficiently so that none of the others were picking up on it. The pack had probably known about what was about to happen today all along, but Derek didn’t mind. That they approved became apparent when Isaac and Aiden sat close to him, once he had picked a place on the floor of the living room, since take-away – as was officially agreed upon – was not a 'dining table food' in this family.

The week after being trusted with the books, Derek realized how much more he was touched by every member of the family. Not only that, but someone almost always sat by his side when he was splayed out on the floor in the evening. The girls snuggled into him when he happened to sit on the couch and Scott and Stiles brushed over his arms or back whenever they passed by him.

The week before Christmas was busy. Derek learned about Lydia's hideouts where she did most of her work, and he stayed busy studying the vast journals that the Stilinski family was using for their trade. The places Lydia chose were both way too exclusive for his comfort or – as he would have assumed – much too shabby for hers.

They were working around midday in the corner of an expensive restaurant while being served chilled white wine and canapés, and then from a corner of an abandoned train station the same afternoon, where Lydia had made herself a little office in the conductor's room, complete with a table and a mini-fridge that held water bottles and small snacks. Derek's favourite place was an abandoned building with half a dozen empty lofts.

For the first time since being sent away from his family all those years ago, he could imagine himself feeling at home somewhere. Maybe, when this was all over, he could get a place like this, maybe even this one so that he could stay in the neighbourhood and … well, at least get the chance to see a member of this pack now and then. They wouldn't brush him off when he was not with them any longer, right? Just because he would not be a part of the pack any more, didn't mean that they weren't friends any longer.

"What are you thinking about?" Lydia asked out of the blue. She had looked quite wrapped up in her work, but apparently Derek not clicking a button for the last few minutes had gotten her attention.

"I was just …," Derek started, but he trailed off uncertainly. He didn't really know how to articulate his thoughts. Only when Lydia pushed away her laptop, reaching for his hand, did his voice finally return to him. In a mere whisper he admitted, "I was thinking about when this is all over, when Stiles gets his money and I will be sent back. This place, the apartments in this house are lovely, I … I like them. Maybe … maybe I could find out who owns them and rent one of them if my mother won't sent me straight back to New York. I could be around, see you, I mean all of you if that would be alright."

Inhaling deeply, looking at their clasped hands to hide his sorrow from Lydia, Derek asked, "It would be alright, wouldn't it? Me being around, I mean. Or would you prefer me out of your hair?"

He didn't dare to look up. Not when so very much of his inner peace depended on the answer of an eighteen year old girl to a question he shouldn’t have asked in the first place. He was surprised when Lydia rose, and looked up at her when she leaned over and gently kissed his forehead, very much like Erica had done on his third day.

Still, the words bathed his entire body in warmth like rays of sunlight when the girl answered, "If the decision would be mine you would never leave." Showing her ability to prioritize, she pulled back after a moment, smiling at him before nudging his laptop closer once again. "And now pay attention to the books. We only have another thirty minutes before we need to relocate."

Returning to his duties, Derek concentrated on the books he was supposed to be study until they left. When they wrapped up their mobiles and their computers, the werewolf hesitated for a moment. "In the end there won’t be a decision, not really. Stiles is well off, but not even he can afford to forgo four million dollars. So the outcome of my … association with you is set in stone. The only question is how long I’m allowed to stay. Though I miss my family, especially my sisters… I’m going to miss your family more.

He ducked his head as he spoke, unfortunately missing Lydia giving him an uncomfortable glance. He didn’t look up even as they walked to the car, mistaking Lydia’s silence for pity. He got into the driver's seat and drove them to the next location she had given him, pointedly ignoring Lydia's texting. He had learned swiftly that no member of this patchwork-family enjoyed having their texts read. When they were speaking, they counted on being overheard. But texting was private and Derek was determined to acknowledge that.

~ * ~

Christmas, Derek was taught, was something very special for the Stilinski family. He had been worried at the beginning, because he had not been given the chance to get any shopping done. Derek was surprised when Scott told him that they never bought each other presents. They all did their work, concentrating on getting everything done before the holidays and what they gave each other as a gift every year was forty-eight hours of undivided attention without any distractions.

They went food-shopping together on Christmas Eve. They bought a turkey and steaks and potatoes and salad and dressing and chips and chocolate and ice-cream and milk and rum and a thousand other things until three cars were loaded up to the roof.

When they returned home they spilled into the kitchen where Isaac was taking the reins, having Allison, Erica and Lydia clean the vegetable while he had Ethan, Aiden and Boyd peel potatoes, cooking and mashing them to make dumplings that would go lovely with their turkey. Stiles, Derek and Scott were up to their elbows in dough for some cookies or pastries, Derek had forgotten which was which, since it was too much fun watching Stiles and Scott banter over the dough. Stiles had smeared it accidentally over his cheek and Scott started licking it off.

The reaction was instant, the teenage boy shoved his best friend off, shouting in faked disgust, "Ugh, bad puppy, _bad puppy_! I'll have to discipline you with a hose if you do that again. Now I have spit on my cheek."

Derek didn't mention how utterly adorable these two were, and he prided himself to hold in his grin when Stiles looked at him with a gaze that said 'can you believe him'? But he couldn't push down the insistent little voice in his head that told him that he would like to be the one to lick, well, anything off Stiles' cheek or any other part of his body.

He couldn't hold back a quiet snicker when Scott looked around like a kicked puppy at the reprimand, with his big brown eyes, until Isaac took mercy on him. After he finished preparing the meat and placed it into the oven, he took it upon himself to create frosting for the cupcakes Derek seemed to be preparing. "You can lick me if you want." The teenage boy offered, dipping his finger into the cherry-red frosting, purposefully dragging them over his lower lip.

Scott's growl made the wolves of the pack look up from what they are doing, but when his eyes flashed red as he reached for his partner, they resumed their duties. Nobody wanted to mess with the Alpha and his mate. Isaac, it seemed, wasn't immune to this display either, because his pupils dilated until all you could see was the black centre, when Scott reached for his neck, sealing his lips with a kiss.

When the boys pulled apart after a few moments, Stiles snickered. Scott, apparently still trapped in his animalistic mind-set growled at him a little, but the teenager only shrugged it off. "All I am saying is that you have to lick his neck now too, since you got dough all over it."

Isaac whimpering at that suggestion, and that regained him his Alpha's attention. It seemed that cookie dough was the least of Scott's concerns when the boy reached for Isaac and picked him right up from the floor, carrying the taller boy up the stairs with ease.

When Ethan asked if Allison didn't want to join them, the girl shrugged. "This is going to be fast and rough and I don’t want to have to cover up a bite on Christmas day, nor do I want to drag this out. Those two are faster without me."

For the first time, ever since coming here, Derek dared to pipe up when there were a few moments of silence after Allison's easy comment. "Great," he exhaled in pretend frustration, "Now, since your boyfriends prefer mixing each other’s batter than mine, I don't know how long or how hot this is supposed to bake."

The whole kitchen exploded into laughter, because … just because. Because Derek was finally picking up on their way of teasing. Because they were together for two days with no business interfering. Because it was Christmas Eve and because it smelled like snow. Because this was what family was all about. And what better could they do than laugh with each other on a day like this?

In the end Allison showed him how to put the batter into the little pans for baking but they decide to wait for Isaac's return, since they were both not sure how hot the oven was supposed to be, or if the cupcakes could be baked along with the turkey or how much time they needed.

~ * ~

Around five, guests started to arrive. Meredith was first, bringing along wine since it was the polite thing to do. Still, she seemed to be aware that it was not needed, as she put it into a corner of the kitchen. The next one was Chris Argent and though Derek had seen him over the past few months he still felt slight unease around the hunter. Not only because his sister and uncle had attacked his family but because, well he might have a hidden agenda, no matter how often Allison assured Derek that he didn't. He was a free hunter after all and hunting werewolves was part of their job description.

Still the evening was perfectly pleasant and Derek started to feel better and better, wondering why until he realized that Stiles was practically hovering at his side. Whenever he turned the boy was there. Be it to pick up cutlery to set the table, get more glasses for the wine, or greeting Mrs. McCall at the door, when Derek had heard her car in the driveway. Derek should be annoyed, maybe, but if he was honest with himself, the constant smell and Stiles' heartbeat around him all the times was incredibly soothing.

After Scott's mum arrived, they all arrange themselves around the table, and after saying a prayer, something that Melissa, Chris and surprisingly Stiles insisted was appropriate, they dug in. The turkey was huge and there were side dishes aplenty. After about an hour there was a serious dent in the mountain of food that had been served. Insisting that this would make a good lunch tomorrow, they put away the leftovers.

Once again, Derek as surprised how neat these teenagers were. His wonder seemed to show on his face, when Chris Argent offered him a glass of whiskey after dinner. Derek rarely drank because for one most members of this house were not allowed to, and second because alcohol did nothing for him. Still he accepted the tumbler and inhaled the strong but smooth fragrance of the high quality whiskey he had been offered.

Guessing his thoughts, Chris asked, "You are wondering why everything is so insanely neat around here, aren't you?"

When Derek nodded the hunter explained. "About two years ago, school had just started, there was an attack on this house. Someone had planted a bomb in a lacrosse helmet and put it under the coffee-table. Since Stiles was never very neat, neither he nor John noticed it until it was too late."

Sighing at the unpleasant memories, Chris continued after a little while. "It was nothing but sheer, dumb luck that nobody got injured when it blew. The family had a pretty regular schedule of watching TV together on Tuesday evenings. John, Allison and Stiles would have been here, in the immediate blast-radius of the bomb."

"But they weren’t," Derek concluded, urging Chris to continue his tale.

"No, they weren't." Chris shook his head. "Allison had had training with me that afternoon and I had been particularly hard on her because she had not taken it seriously because of … well, because of a certain werewolf that had held her entire attention that particular day.

"John told me later that she had been upset, and that Stiles had decided that when being upset a funny movie was the only way to remedy things, so they retreated to the cinema in the cellar. It is sound-proofed and one of the safest rooms in the house. They heard the blast but thankfully didn't get hurt by it. When they emerged from the cellar the backside of the living-room was as good as gone."

Looking at his daughter, Chris smiled a little. "I have never been more grateful for having shouted at my daughter, despite feeling bad all evening. I swore to myself that I would never speak to her harshly, never demand more off her than she was ready to give on my way here after I heard the blast. I imagined her seriously injured, maybe even dead. But apparently a guardian angel had watched over all of them. Stiles became obsessively neat after that. Never left his gear lying around and nothing else either just in case …"

Swallowing down the stomach-churning idea of having lost Stiles before he had ever gotten to know him, Derek drowned the rest of his whiskey in one go. He was toying with the glass, looking at the beautiful etchings that decorated the very top, when he asked quietly, "Allison did not back down after that?" No, the girl he had gotten to know would never pull back after such a tragedy. She would pick herself up, maybe get angry but definitely go on.

"No," Chris admitted, "This attack seemed to make her realize the dangers of the world she was living in. She trained harder after that, pushed herself past limits I would have accepted as boundaries. She became one of the most skilled fighters I have ever met in a long time, and all because of a lanky boy, who decided that a South Park marathon was the best way for a teenager to overcome anger. I have never been more grateful to a Stilinski than on that night."

~ * ~

When they all returned from the midnight ceremony from the local church, Derek found a little blue box with a black ribbon on the kitchen counter. When he looked at it confused, he heard Stiles telling him. "We don't give gifts for Christmas, but we do so for birthdays."

Derek was overwhelmed when one by one first Melissa and then every teenager living under this roof were stepping up to him, hugging him closely. Stiles was last and the werewolf looked at him a little lost, when the boy stepped closer. "Don't you want to open it?"

Nodding, Derek carefully unwrapped the dark ribbon and looked surprised when a car-key was revealed.

"It's about time you get your own ride," Aiden revealed, having Ethan add with a wink, "Yea, you can't expect us to drive you around all the time."

They all followed him to the garage and Derek only had to step around Stiles' Jeep to find the car that was meant for him. It was beautiful, a shiny, black Camaro, just like the one Laura was driving. He wondered how they had known that he had always liked this car, that he had spent nearly every free minute he had been home tuning it so that it was much faster and more to Laura's liking.

He swayed on his feet when he finally opened the door. This was not a similar car, this _was_ Laura's Camaro. His sister's scent hit him and only Stiles' hand on the small of his back kept him from staggering. He turned around, looked into Stiles' eyes, at the other members of the pack. He opened his mouth to ask why his sister's car was here, how they had known how much this meant for him, but he couldn't find the words. When he finally looked at Lydia he knew who had been the instigator of all this.

She had been the one he had told how very much he was missing his sisters, so she had brought him a small part of his family. He tried again, to say thank you. To convey how very grateful he was, but Lydia only smiled with eyes shining like the sun, understanding how very spot-on this birthday present had been. Nodding in comprehension of all the things Derek couldn't express she merely whispered, "Happy birthday, Derek," before shooing all the others out of the garage.

When Stiles turned to leave, Derek finally found his voice again, "May I … can I go for a drive?"

It would be more than that. Going for a drive on his own, without another member of the pack by his side would mean freedom. Would mean being trusted. He wasn't surprised when Stiles shook his head, and vanished into the house. He still belonged to Stiles, the collar around his throat was the proof of that, even when it didn't constrict Derek any longer. No, he took it as a comfortable reminder that he was wanted, no matter how temporary.

He was surprised to hear Stiles returning to him, opening his hand, showing two black ear-studs. "We don’t leave the house without any kind of connection. Take it, I'll take the other one and you are free to go."

Picking up the inconspicuous piece of jewellery with shaking fingers, Derek felt the connection to Stiles flare up as soon as he touched it. He and Stiles had never spoken about Derek's inability to close the connection to him. They had simply learned to work around it, Stiles dampening his words when they were not meant for Derek and the werewolf had come to find it comfortable, no matter how muffled, to have noises of Stiles in his head all day.

He heard Stiles preparing for bed. The sounds was nearly drowned out by the purring of the engine and since it was Christmas eve nobody was on the streets so Derek could push the gas-pedal all the way down and revel in the speed and strength and the familiar scent with every mile he drove away from Beacon Hills.

At the end of the territory, the Hale territory he stopped briefly. After a few moments of consideration he drove on until he reached the border. Central California belonged to the Stilinski family. Looking back from the cliff the road had wound along, he imagined being able to see everything that belonged to Stiles, despite knowing that he could never spot the lights of San Francisco, not even on a clear night.

He could go on now, lose the stud and make his way. He had his wallet on him, since it held his driver's licence. He had money and could use his credit cards. One more step and he would be out of Stilinski-territory and since the collar was not enchanted nothing would stop him.

When he returned to the car, driving through the night he asked quietly, as to not awake the boy at the other end, should he be sleeping. "Stiles?"

"Yes, Derek?" Stiles did not sound sleepy the slightest. Derek could imagine him, huddled up in his bed with a comic book in hand, waiting, listening, and making sure that a pack-member was safe on his nightly joyride.

After a few more minutes, where none of the two said a word he asked, "Why did you let me go?"

"Because I had faith that you would return to me." Stiles smiled. "But now I’m thinking about sleeping."

He didn't ask. Stiles had to hear that Derek was currently driving, but could not know where. With Danny and his fancy computers he would have had a chance, but in his bed, with nothing but a comic he couldn't determine the direction Derek was taking.

Closing his eyes, quietly admitting defeat both to himself and Stiles, Derek whispered, "Always," not knowing if he was talking to himself or to the boy he belonged to.

After a few moments, in the safety of the night and with the familiar scents of his sister surrounding him, Derek found the courage to ask, "May I … can I sleep in your bed tonight?" He had avoided this in fear of growing too attached to this teenager, but now the werewolf realized that these attempts had been vain. Leaving this pack would hurt, no matter what. He might as well make the most of it as long as he was allowed to stay.

Stiles voice in his mind was barely inaudible, but Derek heard him nevertheless, because in his heart he knew that there could have never been another answer from his human Alpha, "Always."

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. Though InvalidEntry was a cherished betareader of mine, memprime was the one correcting the last several chapters. I apologize sincerely girl!
> 
> So: once again officially: Memprime made a sincere effort to make this story as good as possible ever since Chapter 25 and I am so sorry for not mentioning that!


	30. A Happy Life?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things come to those who wait and finally Derek allows himself to have something good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks go to memprime and Wecantgiggleatacrimescene (honestly girl, pick a shorter nickname!) who helped me to edit this chapter so that it is now ready for you to read.
> 
> I know that this chapter isn't the longest and I know that the ending is kind of mean but I'm gleeful at the moment because I know that the next chapter is the final one and this is the perfect introduction for it.  
> I'm off to a short holiday with my husband (and only my husband, no child thanks to my amazing mother-in-law) and I am so looking forward to it. So I am leaving you with a cliffhanger with the promise to post the last chapter on Sunday as soon as I return. Believe me, it will so be worth it.

Returning to the house was quite anticlimactic. Nobody waited for him, since nobody was awake any longer. Derek padded into the kitchen on silent feet, setting up the security system like he had seen the others do it time and time again and when it engaged he made a round to check all doors and windows.

Since the temperature of the house was lower at night he shivered a little. Or maybe his emotions were overwhelming him with their intensity. When he finally went upstairs, shedding his clothes so that he would not wake Stiles, he found the teenager sound asleep in his bed.

Derek had long since learned that for Stiles there were only two forms of sleeping: starfish and octopus. He wrapped around everybody in bed with him, or he used all the space available by stretching out over it. And though Derek really didn't want to be alone tonight, he really had no idea of how he should find room in this bed, without waking the teenager.

In the end Stiles' natural ability to sense intruders saved him from having to make a decision, because after Derek hovering for a minute, the teen mumbled quietly, "Come to bed, it's too late for any kind of crisis." And with a tiny smile, Derek obliged, despite Stiles not moving an inch. When he slowly crawled into the bed, Stiles closed his arms around the werewolf who claimed a resting place with his head over Stiles’ heart and within moments both were fast asleep.

~ * ~

The next day, Derek woke to the rustling of paper. Stiles, with an arm still wrapped around the werewolf, was leafing through a comic book, reading contently while playing with Derek's hair. That was nothing out of the ordinary. Derek had seen the teenager petting nearly all members of his family – well Mrs. McCall was the only exception – enjoying the closeness and the intimacy of the caress. But for Derek it was still something new, despite having learned to accept it over the last few months. For the werewolf it was something special, something he had not allowed himself to enjoy for the last few years with the exception of occasional cuddles with his sisters. But now he held still whenever Stiles touched him, his shoulder, his arms and especially when the teenager toyed with his hair.

These were memories he wanted to keep, to cherish when he would be alone again and he would not allow a single one of them to be forgotten. Still, after about thirty minutes, Derek realized that they had to get up, especially because Stiles' stomach was rumbling, despite the opulent dinner. Together they rose and went through their morning routines. At the breakfast table everybody had a sock hanging over their chair.

Curious because they had agreed upon not giving each other presents, the wolves sniffed the contents and laughed when every one of them discovered: one orange, one apple, a red and white striped candy-cane, a chocolate Santa and a lucky bag from the local toy store. When they all looked at Stiles, the head of the family only shrugged. "Well, it would not be a real Christmas without presents."

Delighted, everybody ripped open their packages and yo-yo's, colouring pencils, tiny puzzles, plastic bracelets and colourful hair-clips were revealed and traded over the breakfast table. Stiles, Scott and Melissa had been the only ones who had received 'real' presents. Stiles had gotten one from his grandmother, who had left after his meeting with the Desert Wolf, promising to supply whatever was needed. She had assured him of how very proud she was, of all members of his family and had hugged each and every one of them. Stiles' present turned out to be a small, black book, filled with small, curly handwriting barely decipherable without a magnifying glass. Still the teenager was instantly aware of what he had been given.

His mother had carried the spark as well and had thoroughly documented her experiences as well as experiments with her power. The book was written in Polish, but Stiles would be able to decipher it and learn what his mother had been taught and discovered for herself. A piece of his mother as a Christmas present was everything and more than Stiles could have ever wished for.

The McCall's both received shiny new watches from Rafael. The Agent was still hanging around in town, pretending to support the Sheriff's department, but secretly keeping an eye on all of them. After Allison got better, Scott had made it very clear that he did not have the slightest interest in dealing with his father on a daily basis, and though Stiles knew that Mrs. McCall was currently working on salvaging her relationship with her former husband, they all were still overly cautious around him. So when the two of them looked at the watches, doubting that it was a good idea to carry them, Stiles opened his hand.

Taking a deep breath, he placed both between the palms of his hands, entrapping them in a cage of fingers. His eyes seemed to shine in a warm brown light, lighting flashing through them and all of a sudden, electric energy was discharging between his fingers. Grinning, he returned the watches, "If they contain listening devices that should have fried them, and since they are mechanic and not digital no harm is done. Just let Danny have a look at them tomorrow."

The McCalls decided to store the watches in their rooms for now; better safe than sorry. They all turned towards the living room after the dishes had been cleaned and put away again.

~ * ~

After lunch it was play-time. Derek was amazed by the amount of board games these teenagers were able to produce and for one hour precisely, each and every one of them was allowed to pick a game. They had fun playing Outburst, Activity and Monopoly, even chess where there were two teams and every move was made by a different person without agreeing on any kind of strategy.

After dinner it was Derek's turn to choose a game and he suggested Charades. Everybody groaned, but since their Alphas both smiled broadly, nobody protested too loudly.

The teams were decided upon randomly and when everybody had claimed a place close to his teammates, Stiles and Scott were the only ones left. When Derek reached for the little papers they had used for sorting, Lydia put a hand on his hand. "It's no use. They refuse to separate into different teams and since the team that has them always wins they make a team of their own."

"But that's unfair," Derek protested, "They are only two and we are four members per team."

"We know," Erica growled, "But they refuse to play fair."

Within two rounds, the werewolf understood Erica's objection. Stiles and Scott seemed to share a telepathic link. They came up with answers to each other's clues Derek would never have even remotely thought about.

Still, Derek's team with Lydia and Mrs. McCall in it were in second place and would win if Stiles and Scott didn't succeed in their final round. Derek had the honour of picking the last word for Scott to present and with a little smile he wrote something down, handing it over to Scott.

The teenager laughed out loud, after reading the clue and handed the sheet of paper over to Erica so that the other team could read it as well. Lydia swatted him over the arm after starting the stopwatch, but Derek looked at her, whispering, "Hey, you said no powers. That makes it way harder." That rule had been established so that Melissa, Lydia and Allison were on even footing with them

With a pitying smile, Lydia shook her head. "Scott won't need any powers to convey this one."

When Derek looked up, Stiles had already deciphered that he had to find the title of a movie with two words. After that Scott turned around, with his butt towards his best friend, and grinned wolfishly at Derek while opening his belt. He gazed at his best friend and only slapped his right cheek before pulling up his pants and jeans again. Stiles on the other hand seemed to choke on laughter, nearly falling from his armchair until Lydia told him: "Ten seconds, Stiles."

But the teenager only reached for the watch, and stopped it, announcing the same moment: "Teen Wolf"

Scott and Stiles high-fived and started a ridiculous victory dance around the coffee-table, shaking their butts into the faces of their family. Lydia reprimanded Derek for good measure and sent him picking up more drinks from the kitchen as a punishment.

~ * ~

Later that night, when Derek lay wrapped around Stiles again, he thought about the afternoon. How could Scott's simple gesture spell 'Teen Wolf' for Stiles? The Alpha had not done anything but flash his best friend his naked butt, but somehow that was significant for the two. Trying to recall the last few months, realizing that Stiles had not once been completely naked around him he asked on a hunch, "Stiles?"

Sleepily the teenager replied with a barely audible, "Hm?"

"Scott, he … in the past, did he hurt you?" It would make sense. Stiles always having mountain ash at hand and Scott's devotion towards his best friend, siding with Stiles even against his own father, his unrelenting support and unwavering loyalty … Stiles must have done something to deserve this. Sandbox-friends usually were not as tight as those two.

The teenager's next words were far more lucid when he asked, "What makes you ask that?"

After a moment of gathering his thoughts, Derek revealed, "The way he treats you. The way you two act around each other, sometimes it's like you are one mind in two bodies. The two of you always knowing what the other needs and most of all, the way you are not afraid of him, even if he is completely wolfed out. After Erica was shot you trapped Aiden in a circle but you didn't even reach for the mountain ash when Scott was out of it in Deaton's office. He hurt you, once, and it never happened again. You are carrying a constant reminder of an attack on you, most likely your backside. But I wouldn't know since I have never seen you naked. Am I right?" Derek had seen the family's books, but still, asking such a private question seemed far more intimate than knowledge that could destroy the entire family.

Turning around on his stomach, Stiles probed up his head on his elbow, looking at the werewolf in the dim light of the moon.  "One would assume that me being naked around you would make you uncomfortable."

Derek didn't know how to reply to that. Yes, he would be wound-up if Stiles lost his pyjama-bottoms now, but in a different way, he would have been after coming here. Actually Derek didn't know how he would feel, if it was something he would want or something he would be afraid off. He had not had the best track record with relationships since his first had ended so spectacularly bad. One-night-stands didn't really count.

Stiles looked into Derek's face for quite some time, but in the end he seemed to find what he had been looking for, since he turned a little and pulled his pyjama pants down to reveal five, deep scars that ran from the middle of his arse down to the beginning of his thigh.

Without thinking about it, Derek placed the tips of his fingers over them, noticing that these were the precise patterns his claws would make, if he dug them into the teenager's flesh. After a moment, Stiles pulled up his pants again, sitting up, looking at the moon that shone through the window.

"When Scott was bitten I didn't know the first thing about werewolves. Sure, I knew a few myths and legends but I never believed them to be real. Dad kept them from me since it was Talia's, I mean, your mother's job to deal with them. I knew a lot about our organization, but I think dad tried to protect me from at least that. Scott's more than my best friend, he is my brother from another mother, and when I realized what had happened to him, there was no chance in hell I would let him deal with it on his own. I did extensive research and we worked on his control."

Grinning Stiles recalled, "I hit him with lacrosse balls and all kinds of stuff whenever he started to shift. Afterwards he found an anchor in Allison and then Isaac but at the beginning it had only been him and me. I chained him down on his first full moon, in the cinema in the basement. I put on nature documentaries I hoped to be soothing for him, but they didn't help. He got free from the chains and I had been stupid enough to wait right outside. Well, in the end it was a blessing in disguise, because once he got free he came after me.

"Naturally I ran, but a wolf is much faster. I tried to trap him in the gym. Not the best idea I have to admit, but I was sixteen at the time and panicking when facing a teen wolf." Wiggling his eyes at the reference to their game of charade, Stiles continued after a moment. "He went after me, gave me the wounds when he pulled me out from under a press-bench. I guess we both thought he would kill me."

Unclenching his fists, Stiles took a deep breath before continuing. "I have asked him later what made him stop, and he revealed that he had seen his own reflection in the handles of the weights right above me. He saw parts of his face and his inhuman eyes. He turned his face to look at the mirror and saw the reflection of a monster staring back at him, towering over his childhood friend who looked an inch away from a panic attack."

"That made him stop?" Derek asked. The first full moon as a teenager without an anchor, Derek could not even imagine the emotions and instincts that would had run havoc in Scott's mind.

Smiling a little, apparently lost in memory, Stiles whispered, "He told me that he looked like a monster and that he knew that he could never change that, the werewolf was an inevitable part of him. But he could very well chose upon the way he acted. Under different circumstances he would have done everything to protect me. So he let go of me and pulled back, until he sat in the corner of the gym, huddled in on himself, whining miserably. My best friend might be a werewolf but he never was a monster.

"I didn't leave him that night. After a few minutes, I crawled towards him, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. He accepted my proximity and about an hour after midnight he put his head in my lap and let me pet him. He said that me staying with him proved that he could still be Scott McCall, a brother, a son, a normal teenager even if he was a werewolf. We didn't speak about it for nearly a year, not even when Isaac and then Erica and Boyd joined us, but that night proved that a bitten werewolf can rein in his instincts if he only tries hard enough. The mountain-ash is just a little insurance, easing the mind of everyone in the house, but it had never been important with Scott, not after our first full moon."

When they lay down again, wrapped around each other, Derek whispered, "The two of you are the most amazing Alphas I have ever met." before finally falling asleep.

~ * ~

The next few days were busy as hell. The transport company had to be prepared for the turn of the year and the illegitimate trade boomed on the days between Christmas and New Year. Switching between helping Lydia with the journals and the Red Hood Trading Company with the books, Derek saw nothing but numbers in the evening, but still he enjoyed getting caught up in a comic while sitting on the floor beside Stiles' chair, or having Danny leaning against him on the couch when Ethan and Aiden claimed the place by Stiles' side. He and the incubus had come to a kind of treaty. Danny would not flirt with him more than was natural for him and not push Derek into something the young man didn't feel comfortable with and the werewolf was willing to fuel the demon now and then, if nobody was at hand and Danny was starving.

Derek's life finally took a turn for the better and for the first time in years, he was looking forward to New Year's Eve and the beginning of the New Year since it would be much better than the last. Naturally that was when everything went to hell.

In the morning of the 31st of December, Stiles accepted a phone call at the breakfast table, something that was unusual since a) Stiles rarely received calls outside of work, that's what he had Isaac and Lydia for and b) the teenager never took a call at the table, that was rude and Stiles usually wouldn't have it. When he hung up, after offering nothing more than an affirmative 'yes' and 'I know the place.' he looked up and revealed, "Talia Hale has the money. She's prepared to make the trade."

Derek's stomach turned to ice.

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is now a series so subscribe to the series so that you will get the notification when the next part will begin. I hope to be able to post as regularly during November but I have to be honest, I won't be writing this story. It's Nanowrimo and I unearthed one of my original works to see if I can write 50.000 words for it. Last year was fanfiction, this year a need a new challenge.


	31. The Hales' Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision has to be made. By more than one person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my thanks go to Wecantgiggleatacrimescene and memprime for their help with this chapter.
> 
> As I said before, I was away on holiday for the last three days, that's why I didn't respond to any of your comments, but I am very, very grateful for each and every one of them. Thank you so much for taking your time to share your opinion with me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this ride and I will see you again for the next part.

Derek barely spoke during the day. He had always known that his time in this family was temporary, but he had allowed himself to give in to the illusion of belonging to them. Now he didn't even know how he felt. It was like he was dead inside, because if he allowed himself even the faintest emotions he would break apart.

Scott and Stiles, well actually all members of the pack had been looking at him with concern, because they could not discover what he needed from them to feel better. Whenever they approached him he pulled back. Whenever they tried to touch him he stepped out of reach. They looked at each other helplessly but finally decided to simply leave him be. Nobody could force support on someone who wouldn't accept it.

The moon was high in the sky when they stepped onto a clearing in the woods that was agreed to be neutral territory, since Stiles and Talia still shared Beacon Hills and the surrounding country between them. The teenagers all wore their work-clothes with the exception of their shoes. Leather loafers would make a trip through the woods rather slippery. Erica was the only exception, instead of a short skirt and a belly-top she usually wore for work, she had chosen from-fitting leather trousers and a corset Derek knew to contain a knife.

Derek could hear someone following them, but since Scott didn't react to it, he pushed it out of his mind. The werewolf had decided upon dressing the same way when he had been offered in the first place. It was cold since the original outfit had lacked a shirt, but since he felt frozen on the inside it didn't really matter. His sisters, looked at him with barely concealed pity, when he stepped onto the clearing by Stiles side, facing his entire family.

His mother spoke respectfully but with barely concealed contempt when she saw her half-naked son. "Mr. Stilinski."

"Alpha Hale," Stiles nodded, but didn’t lower his eyes. Since he officially knew about wolves, he could behave like he would around a predator. That meant never leaving Derek's mother out of his sight.

Talia gestured her eldest daughter forward, apparently Peter was only willing to give Derek away, not collect him again. Laura stepped in the middle of the clearing, opening a suitcase, revealing neat rows of money. When Stiles nodded, she closed it again, placing it on the ground, right between the two families.

"As we agreed upon, I am offering the money to get back my son." Talia revealed, not bothering to assure Stiles that it was the entire sum. Neither of the two would insult the other by offering even a penny less than what had been agreed upon.

Sharing a quick glance with Scott, Stiles turned towards Derek, reaching up to open his collar. His words were soft, they might be carried over the clearing but the chances were slim, still the teenager couldn't care less at the moment. This was important, the inevitable outcome. He wanted Derek to stay with them. He had hoped for more time to show the wolf that Stiles' family was the better choice. But he had not even been granted half a year. So he could only hope for the best.

"This is it Derek. Now you have to make a decision. This is the price your mother puts on you and you have to decide where the money will go."

Confused, Derek shook his head, "What do you mean, _I_ have to decide? You can't forgo four million dollars. That's insane!" He wanted, wanted so very much to stay with these teenagers, to stay with two Alphas who had not only accepted him, but had made him feel worthy and wanted. Still, what Stiles was proposing was insane. "I know your books. You can't afford losing four million dollars!"

"Derek," Lydia sighed impatiently, stepping up to him. "As you just said, you know our books. At any point, in any journal, did you read anything even remotely resembling 'Payment for the Hale's debt'?"

Shivering, despairingly trying to suppress the hope that threatened to drown him, Derek looked at Scott, when the teenager spoke in earnest. "I told you, in the bathroom, the morning after Erica was shot. Do you remember?" The werewolf could only nod, barely believing, but desperately wanting. Because if given a choice he knew who he would chose.

Stiles brushed over his neck when he pulled away the collar after having unlocked it. "You will go the way you came to us. You have time to decide until you reach the middle of the clearing. Then you will deliver the money and return to your chosen pack."

Feeling strangely naked without the collar, Derek inhaling deeply one last time before he shifted.

As a wolf his sense of smell was multiplied. He could smell Stiles' anxiety and his longing, Scott's determination and the worries and compassion of everybody else. When he turned towards his family a different set of smells assaulted him. His mother's determination nearly overwhelmed him but where Scott smelled soft and caring, Talia Hale smelled strong and unwavering. His uncle's scent was underlined with sorrow, something he had never really noticed until he had been in an environment where sorrow and pain were not constant companions. The same went for his sisters, their anxiety and pain were apparent. The other wolves … there was compassion but also a hint of fear. Nothing compared to the warmth and love and care he had gotten used to in the Stilinski-McCall pack.

He shifted back next to the suitcase, cringing a little at the smell of anxiety that radiated from it. He looked back at the Stilinski family, who stood loosely together, every member with a raised chin, meeting his eyes. He turned his head towards his family, where Talia met his eyes impatiently, his sister's hopefully and his uncle looked towards him occasionally but mostly appeared bored. The others had their eyes lowered in respect for their Alpha.

But was that really respect or was it fear? Derek knew that he had been anxious ever since being sent to New York, sometimes he had even been downright afraid. But now … now he knew different and he didn't want to go back to feeling afraid every day, not when he was given a choice. So he picked up the money and carried it back to his mother. His voice was strong and unwavering, despite standing half-naked before his former Alpha. "Thank you, but no thank you."

Putting the money-case at her feet, Derek simply turned around to return to his family. The joy that assaulted his sense was exhilarating and he couldn't help but smile, when he claimed his place by Stiles' left shoulder. This time by choice and not by force and the feeling of it was overwhelming, especially when Isaac shifted a little to mirror his position, accepting him as a regular part of their lives.

~ * ~

"What?"

His mother seemed dumbfounded for a second, before she found his composure again. Flashing her eyes she angrily snarled at Stiles, "You can't take my son from me! You are not even strong enough to anchor him!"

Calmly, not even raising his voice, Stiles replied, "I didn't take anything from you. You gave him away, remember? And tonight was his decision, a decision I support whole heartedly."

Smiling slightly, he looked at Scott who nodded at him. He looked at his pack who conveyed their agreement as well and didn't that make all the difference in the world? An Alpha deciding together with his pack and not simply commanding them. "As for the anchoring," the teenager continued calmly, "Maybe I am not enough, though that did not concern you five months ago." Not stopping, even when Talia inhaled sharply to reply, Stiles continued, "But if I am not strong enough-"

"-I will be," Scott finished his best friend's sentence, stepping up to Derek, briefly touching the wolf's shoulder, letting his eyes flash red.

"And I will be," Isaac assured, reaching for a moment towards Derek, his eyes shining in the most brilliant blue.

"And we will be," Erica and Boyd revealed, amber eyes flashing when they came closer, both touching Derek briefly before taking their stand.

"And if bitten wolves are not enough," Aiden spoke up, letting his blue eyes show, "We will be," Ethan finished his sentence for him, his eyes flaring up as well, both closing the protective circle around Derek.

"How …," The Hale-pack seemed completely taken aback by this display of strength right in front of them. The Stilinski-McCall-pack stood before them like a united front. Talia shouted in obvious fury, "How dare you invade my territory? Those bitten can't even exercise the necessary level of control without the proper teachings!"

"They were strong enough to keep their secret on countless full moons," Allison reminded the werewolf calmly, claiming a position beside Scott, a bow loosely in hand, a silver arrow lying on the bowstring.

Chris Argent was the last to reveal himself, claiming a place beside Isaac, mirroring his daughter. "But if they aren't, I owe the Stilinski family a great debt and I am willing to pay. If one of these kids gets out of control, I will take care of it, without involving the authorities."

"A hunter?" Talia took half a step back, before catching herself.

"And may I remind you: this is neutral territory, Alpha Hale," Stiles stated. "The woods belong to you, the town to me. You don't barge into my territory and I will leave yours alone. Just like you have agreed upon with my family twenty years ago."

Forcing herself to calm despite this insolent teenager provoking her, she decided, "Still, you can't take my son from me. You agreed that I could buy him back once I come up with the money. Now honour our agreement!"

Shaking he head, Stiles recalled, "I agreed to let you make an offer. But I never promised to take it. See, that's the difference between us: With me, people have choices."

Raising his head he now addressed the rest of the Hale-pack. "In fact, I want to give a choice to each and every one of you. We are family, at least some of us are," He might or might not have looked at Peter Hale before he continued. "If you are willing to come to us the same way Derek did. If you are willing to submit to a human, then you are welcome, no matter the past we share."

Even without looking at Scott and Isaac, at Erica and Boyd, Stiles knew that they were all looking at Peter. He had been the Alpha who had created them. He was the one they shared a link with. Peter Hale had stolen his powers from another Alpha. He had abandoned them soon after creating them, deciding that a pack of teenagers wouldn't give him enough power. Still, he was family, their powers, at least some of them came from him and the wolves bitten by him longed for him subconsciously.

Snickering Peter shook his head. "You can't mean that. You don't want another wolf barging into your territory."

Now Scott was the one who spoke. As the wolf-Alpha of the pack this was his decision, so he decided. "Yes, we talked about it and our offer is genuine. We won't set ourselves up for a fight. This pack has two Alphas, a human and me. Everybody who accepts that, who will come to us the same way Derek came, will be welcome."

"How dare you?" Talia snarled, eyes glowing red, furious at the audacity of these teenagers to invite one of her own. No wolf would ever choose a teenager and a human Alpha over a born wolf.

Turning the conversation towards more important matters she asked, "I demand from you to reveal who bit you Alpha McCall. You might have bitten the others after killing your Alpha, but you are not a born wolf. I would have known about you all along. So, who was your Alpha?"

Shaking his head, Scott informed her, "I have never bitten anybody in my entire life. Nor have I killed."

Blanching, the werewolf shook her head. "You can't … but that would mean…?"

"That Scott is a true Alpha." Stiles revealed. He tilted his head slightly, mocking in a soft voice, "Do you still think we are not strong enough to anchor your son, Alpha Hale?"

Reeling from shock, Talia took a deep breath before asking, "Still, that does not explain who created him in the first place!"

"Didn't you figure that one out by now, sister?" Peter's words were barely audible when he taunted his Alpha, slowly opening the buttons of his dress-shirt. He had lived with the pain of being alone ever since the fire. Being a member of this pack but never have his own family.

After the fire that he had forgotten how it felt to be content, hell, not to be in constant pain at any given time. He had been badly scarred that fateful day, when he had tried to enter a sealed house to rescue his wife and unborn child. John Stilinski had tried to hold him back, and had probably saved his life by giving his fellow wolves the chance to reach him before he had fought free. But at the same time the man had condemned him to a lifetime of regret.

Now these teenagers, wolves he had bitten but abandoned when he had realized that they would not make him strong enough to execute his revenge, looked at him like they really wanted him. He had forgotten about them, locked the knowledge about these kids away in the darkest corners of his mind since he had had convinced himself that he hadn't had any need for them any longer. But now they stood there, looking at him with so much longing that he felt his heart break. They might not be family but maybe, maybe if he was ready to abandon his pride they could be. Derek surely looked better, happier now standing between his two Alphas, than he had had in years.

It would be an exercise in self-restraint, following the leads of these boys. But it would mean being with a pack again, a pack that really seemed to want him instead of merely tolerating him because he was family by blood.

A family by choice. Was that even possible?

~ * ~

When his sister whipped around, looking at him incredulously, he glanced at her before passing her by. She held him back but when he growled at her, the growl was mirrored from the other side of the clearing. They had suspicions about what he was about to do, but did not know for sure, yet they still took his side against his own sister, an Alpha, even in such a small thing.

Losing his dress-shirt and t-shirt he shifted, he walked through the clearing without looking back. When he finally arrived in front of Stiles he had to fight down his urge to dominate, to claim a place in this pack, to fight for it. Instead he lowered his head, showing his unprotected neck. He had to hold back an undignified rumbling of pure delight when Stiles fondled his neck before stepping aside, nudging him to go on. He had given the collar to Lydia, a smartest girl he had chosen for his pack. The bite hadn't taken with her, but still she had survived. She had suffered more than the others, so obviously Stiles had decided that she deserved him as a pet the most.

Unknown feelings swelled in Peter's chest when he slowly walked between the wolves, each and every one of them brushing his wiry fur connecting him to their pack by sharing their scent. When he reached Lydia the girl only looked down at him, holding up the collar. "You know what that is?"

Of course he knew and he dreaded the effects. But still he had made his decision, if Derek was able to survive this, he would be as well. He was an Alpha after all. So he sat down before her, lowering his head.

Crouching down before him, Lydia placed the collar around his neck, whispering into his ear. "Do as I say and they won't ever be the wiser." When the buckle closed, Peter felt magic simmering into place, but he could still think, could still act like he wanted to, he was sure of it. After a few seconds he realized that this must be a different collar from the one he had given Stiles when he had delivered Derek.

Smiling down at him after straightening to her full height again, Lydia pointed to her side, "Heel."

Keeping her words in mind, not wanting his sister to realize that there was more than one magic collar, that there was somehow, someone who did magic for this pack, he whined a little before sitting beside Lydia, dropping his head. He was rewarded with her long fingers scratching his ear and though he would deny it until his dying day, he felt comforted by them.

~ * ~

In the end Talia had to admit defeat because despite losing two members of her pack tonight, both had left her by their own choices. Derek and Peter had preferred the Stilinski-McCall-pack over their own family, and since this was not mentioned in the contract she had made with the Sheriff all those years ago, she was powerless to do anything about it.

On their way home, Derek rode shotgun in Stiles' beat-up Jeep, pondering just how drastically life could change overnight. It was New Year's Eve and within a few hours he had gone from being a 'payment' to an appreciated member of a pack.

He could feel them, feel them in his bones in a way he had not allowed himself to feel them before. There was Stiles and his spark, burning brightly in the pack-bond. Scott, who was pure compassion with his need to protect, stronger than any other. Erica and Boyd, two steady anchors. Ethan and Aiden, not part of them by blood but by choice as well and finally Isaac, a steady and strong power, connected in equal measures to Stiles and Scott.

Closing his eyes and concentrating on the bond he could feel Lydia and Allison and even Mrs. McCall. The humans had a place amongst these wolves and were cherished and beloved by all of them. Focussing really hard, he was even able to sense faint traces of Peter. He still was not sure how this would turn out, but the wolves had wanted him here, so who was he to judge?

"What are you thinking about?" Stiles asked, briefly taking his eyes off the road to glance at Derek.

"That a family by choice can be much stronger than a family by blood."

Smiling, Stiles reached for Derek's naked neck and tug his hair a little, shaking him like a wet puppy. "And don't you forget that, wolf-boy. Don't you ever forget that!"

~ * ~

**Author's Note:**

> You came this far. You might as well comment.


End file.
